Womb with a View
by WRTRD
Summary: Kate is pregnant, and even in utero the Beckett-Castle baby has plenty to say. Plenty. (Castle Summer Hiatus 2015 Ficathon Entry.) Special thanks to dtrekker for the great cover art!
1. Chapter 1

Kate Beckett is ten weeks pregnant, and she's having her first ultrasound, much earlier than she'd thought she would. Everything seems to be going well, but because of the damage to her heart when she was shot four years ago, her OB/GYN is being cautious. Beckett is lying down, with Castle standing next to her, and she flinches a bit when the doctor squeezes gel onto her abdomen.

 _"Hey! Hey! Hey! Watch it! Go easy with that slimy stuff. It's really cold. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I don't have any clothes on in here. Not even a bathing suit, and I'm swimming around, you know? And now you're rubbing some transducer thing that's bigger than I am, right across Mom's stomach. Is this going to be over soon? CAN YOU HEAR ME?"_

When a whoosh fills the room, Kate gasps. "That's the baby's heart, Castle!"

"Cool, right? Listen to how fast it's going!" He's squeezing her hand and squinting at the screen. "How fast is it, anyway?"

The doctor smiles at them. "A hundred and sixty-eight beats a minute, which is perfect at this stage of development. Everything else looks great, too. Completely normal." She runs through a few things for the prospective parents, and wipes the gel from Kate's skin with a Kleenex.

 _"It's about time you got that goo off. I don't know what you used to do it, Doc, but it was nice. Nice and soft and soothing. I'm tired after showing off for Mom and Dad, so I might take a little nap now."_

A quarter of an hour later, with the next regular doctor's appointment booked, they're in a taxi on their way home. "I can't believe the baby's already an inch long," Beckett says, running her hand over her flat, goo-free belly.

Castle puts his hand right next to hers. "Size of a kumquat," he announces cheerfully, before bending over to kiss her just below her navel. "Hi, baby," he says, and sits back up.

 _"A kumquat? Really, Dad? That's an inedible piece of fruit. Totally sour. Couldn't you have compared me to, I dunno, a grape? They're sweet and juicy and come in a lot of colors. Think about it. Also, next time could we go in our car? The shocks are much better. This thing is knocking me around so hard that it woke me up from my nap. I'm surprised you haven't noticed, Mom."_

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

 **A/N** A few reviewers have very nicely said that this story reminds them of the old movie _Look Who's Talking_. I've never seen it and certainly won't watch it until the summer hiatus ficathon is over, but it will go on my Netflix list then!

It's Sunday afternoon, and Beckett has just woken up from an hour-long snooze. She wanders into the kitchen, where last week's sonogram photo is now posted on the freezer door. Castle is installed at the counter, eating an alarmingly large bowl of ice cream in colors that make her wish she were wearing sunglasses.

"Wmpf sum, Buckt? Shdlsh." He waves his spoon at her and licks an unidentifiable smudge of something from his chin.

"What?"

He swallows. "I said, 'Want some, Beckett? It's delicious'."

"Well, what exactly is it that you're eating?"

"Ice cream!"

"Got it, Castle, thanks to my many years of experience as a detective. Finely-honed skills. I meant, what flavors are those?"

He examines the bowl closely, as if he were on the witness stand and needed to refresh his memory. "Lemme see. Bubblegum Bonanza, Key Lime Dream, Bavarian Chocolate Surprise, and PB&J Swirl." He beams, proud that he identified everything properly without having to consult any of the packages which he had already returned to the freezer.

"You know," Beckett says, plopping down on the stool next to him, "it's a good thing my morning-afternoon-and-evening sickness is a thing of the past, or I'd have fled the room by now. Where did you get these, anyway? I've never heard of them."

"Boutique ice cream service online. They have about a zillion flavors, but you can custom-order anything you want. Brilliant, right?"

 _"_ _I agree, Dad, but I bet you five bucks Mom doesn't."_

Beckett looks seriously at him, and grasps his elbow. "Oh, yes, Castle. It's an incredible public service." When he looks crestfallen, she has to laugh. "Okay, bud, pass me a spoon, please, and your bowl. I have to look at something." She pokes and prods, and shoves the mottled, reddish-pink scoop to one side. "Is this the Bubblegum Bonanza?"

"Yup."

"I'm going to make a guess, based on my extensive knowledge of your palate, that you invented that one."

"We have a winner!" He gives her a sticky kiss. "I'm proud to say that that one's mine."

"I'm trying to figure out what's in here, besides"—she lifts a glob for closer inspection—"bubblegum. There appear to be freeze-dried strawberries, chopped maraschino cherries, and bits of cinnamon hots." He starts to say something, but she puts her hand up to stop him. "Wait. I have to taste this." She puts a tiny bit on the end of her tongue. "And, oh, of course, a soupçon of pink marshmallow." She grimaces.

 _"_ _Mom! That was gross! Don't eat any more of that. What was the lime one? You know I like citrus. Ask Dad for some of that."_

"Castle, that Key Lime thing looks pretty good. May I have a bowl?"

He's halfway to the freezer when he stops and turns back to her. "It has macadamia nuts in it. You hate macadamia nuts."

 _"_ _I've never had them, though. Please try that. I like the sound of it, mah-cuh-day-me-uh."_

"I know, but for some reason it seems appealing. Just give me a little and I'll see."

Castle's idea of little is a serving the size of a softball, but she accepts it. She takes a bite from the neon-green mass and rolls it around on her tongue. "Hmm. Not bad."

 _"_ _Not bad? I love this! More, please."_

She takes another taste. "Wow, this really is good."

 _"_ _You go, Mom! I know you can't feel it yet, but I'm clapping my hands."_

Beckett polishes off the entire helping. She's even considering licking the bowl. "Huh."

"Yes? Huh, what?"

"Why do I like this all of a sudden? I've never been able to stand macadamia nuts."

"But I love them," Castle says, as if that explained anything.

"So?"

"Must be the kid, Kate. 's got half my genes, you know. Half my taste buds."

 _"_ _Ha! Good one, Dad."_

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Have fun, Beckett," Castle says, helping his wife wife on with her coat and giving her a quick kiss at the front door. "Do you have earplugs with you?"

She looks blankly at him. "Earplugs?"

"You'll need them when you tell Lanie. She's going to scream so loud it'll wake the dead. A fitting metaphor for a medical examiner, if I do say so."

Beckett snorts and returns his kiss. "Bye, Castle."

She's on her way to meet Lanie for dinner, and tell her about the baby. She had wanted to wait until she was through her first trimester, but Lanie, unlike the clueless Esposito and the only-one-step-above-clueless Ryan, clearly suspects that Beckett is hiding something. For the last couple of weeks, she has felt Lanie's antennae quivering, displacing the air around them every time they look at a corpse or stand side by side in a lab. Lanie has been pressing her about getting together after work, too, so tonight's the night.

Beckett gets to the restaurant a little early, and thanks the maître d' for having reserved a table in a corner that's not too close to other diners. She's in her seat, nibbling on a breadstick, when Lanie arrives.

"You ordered us drinks already?" Lanie says after she sits down.

"Yup. Hope you don't mind."

"Prosecco, huh? Who'd mind that? We don't usually start with that, but it's nice." She raises her glass and clinks it against Beckett's.

"Mine actually just looks like Prosecco," Beckett says, after taking a sip. She puts her glass back down. "It's ginger ale."

Lanie is quiet for a moment as her wide eyes go wider. "Kate? You have something you want to tell me?"

"No alcohol for me for the next twenty-eight weeks or so."

"Because?"

Beckett braces herself. "Because I'm pregnant."

Castle was right. Lanie, who has all but leapt across the table to hug her friend, is shrieking. "Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate, Kate!"

 _"_ _Wow, that woke me up. Why is Lanie screaming so loud?"_

"I knew it! I knew it!" Lanie says, catching her breath now that she's back on the other side of the table. "You know how?"

"Is it because I'm 'glowing'?" Beckett asks, forming quotation marks with her hands. "The way you said I was when Castle and I first got together?"

"Nope." Lanie lowers her gaze from her friend's eyes to her chest, and points a perfectly manicured fingernail. "It's the girls. I could tell. Oh, yeah, those girls are definitely bigger, Kate."

 _"_ _What girls? Who are you talking about? Are there girls at the next table? Because it sounds like a couple of guys over there to me."_

"Yeah," Kate says, a little embarrassed but a little proud. "Castle really loves that particular aspect of my pregnancy."

"Oh, I bet he does. It always cracks me up when you tell him to stop looking at my girls."

 _"_ _Lanie has girls? I thought she didn't have any kids. It's hard to know what's going on when you can't see out. There should be a window in here. I'd be a lot less confused."_

"He keeps telling me they're going to get even bigger. And you should see his expression every time he says it."

They clink glasses again and burst out laughing.

"So, Kate, everything's okay? You're feeling okay?"

"Yup, everything's great." She pats her stomach "Couldn't keep much down at first, but that's over, thank God."

"What's your due date?"

"Gonna be a long, hot summer. August thirty-first."

 _"_ _Thanks, Mom! I finally know when I'm getting out of here. Could you get me a calendar?"_

TBC

 **A/N** Enormous thanks for all the reviews, follows and favorites, each one of which spurs me on. A tip of the hat to guest reviewer LivK for saying that she liked the "insider dialogue." I'm still chuckling over that.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

The expectant parents are lolling on the sofa. "You're at thirteen weeks," Castle says, massaging Beckett's left foot. "Second trimester is underway, so why don't we start talking about names?"

"Uhrngah," Beckett answers, and sighs wearily. "You have me under your spell and you just want to get me to agree to some insane name that I won't be allowed to change. You probably have a contract all ready for me to sign while I'm delirious over what you're doing to my feet."

"Really, Beckett. I can't believe that you'd say such a thing. Although I like your idea of a contract. Very devious." He tugs on her foot. "A pre-pop contract."

"Pre-pop? What the hell is that?" She shifts a little, and raises her head.

"An agreement on a name before the baby pops out. Pre-pop."

"I don't think this baby is just going to pop out, Castle. That's not the way it works."

 _"_ _I'm not just going to pop out? How am I getting out of here, anyway? What do I have to do? Do I have to dig? I can. I have fingers. And you know what? A little while ago when I was hanging around I saw that I've got fingerprints now. That's so cool. Unless I become a criminal. Just kidding!"_

"No contract then. I just thought it would be nice to refer to our offspring by something more specific than 'the baby'."

"But we don't know the gender," Beckett says, poking his thigh with her big toe, "so how can we refer to the baby by name?"

"We can hyphenate it for now, girl-boy, boy-girl—call it Katherine-Richard, Richard-Katherine, like that—or alternate. One week we use a girl's name, next week a boy's."

"That's too complicated, Castle."

"You're the one who loves complicated."

She gives him a soft kick, and chuckles. "Okay, okay. I get your point. Let's look at some girls' names."

Castle fishes his phone from his pocket. "I'm glad you mentioned that. I just happen to have a list of the ten most popular names for baby girls born in New York City last year."*

Beckett props herself up on her elbows. "Really? You have that?"

"Be prepared, Beckett."

"Right, your motto. I know. I'm going to sit up because this requires complete concentration and I don't want you hypnotizing me with your massage techniques." She pushes herself up and rests her feet against the coffee table. "You haven't already chosen one, have you?"

"Of course not. I was waiting for you. I haven't even looked at this list yet. So, number one—um." He rushes ahead, panic in his eyes. "Number two, Isabella. Number three, Emma—"

"Hey, go back. What about number one?"

"Never mind."

"What? How bad is it?"

"You have no idea."

She grabs his phone. "Let me see that. Sophia? Sophia is at the top? Are you kidding me? No child of mine is having the same name as your, your previous _muse_. And traitor. And murderer."

Castle reaches over and takes his phone back before she can hurl it to its doom against the wall. "Do you want to hear the rest of the list?"

 _"_ _Wait, I want to hear about Sophia, not the rest of the dumb list. Was she Dad's girlfriend? Dad had a girlfriend before Mom and she killed people?"_

Beckett crosses her arms and slouches grumpily against the back of the sofa. "Sure, go ahead."

"Number four, Olivia. Number five, Mia. Six, Emily. Seven, Leah. Eight." Castle is suddenly overcome by a coughing fit. "Gotta get water," he croaks, and runs to the kitchen.

When he hasn't returned after a couple of minutes, Beckett is puzzled. She's about to go after him when he emerges with two bottles of water. "Are you all right?"

"Fine, just had a tickle." He sits down again and says, "Here, have some water. Okay, finishing up: number nine, Madison, and ten, Chloe."

"Uh-uh."

"You don't like any of them? I'm kind of partial to Olivia."

"Uh-uh as in you left one out. What's eight, Castle?"

"You won't believe it," he says, looking vaguely guilty, as if he were complicit in selecting the names.

"Yeah?" She narrows her eyes. "Try me."

 _"_ _Yeah, Dad, try her. This could be fun."_

"You know how you don't believe in coincidence? Fate? Lightning striking twice?"

She's staring at him in words of one syllable. "Yes."

He'd rather not, but he knows he has no choice. He swallows. "Sofia."

"What?" And she's off the sofa. "The same name twice? How is that possible?"

"It's the F, Beckett. Sofia with an F instead of a PH. The first one was S-O-P-H-I-A. This one's S-O-F-I-A."

"Give me that phone, Castle."

He passes it to her. She depresses the off button far harder than necessary and returns the phone to him.

"You know that that didn't delete the list, right?"

"Yes, but at least I don't have to see it now. Why are we looking at it, anyway? We don't want to give our baby a name that thousands of other people in the city gave theirs."

 _"_ _Yeah. I don't want to share my name with a bunch of other kids in my kindergarten class."_

Castle pulls her down to him and wraps his arm around her shoulder. "I thought it was a good starting point. And a good elimination one, too, so we could be sure we weren't unintentionally following a name trend. Do you have some ideas?"

"I dunno. Something soft, like Susannah or Charlotte."

"How about Serendipity?"

"Attaboy, Castle," she says, laughing at last and squeezing his knee. "We'll name her after your favorite ice-cream parlor."

 _"_ _Not that! Someone will start calling me Dip. I'm the one who's getting stuck with this name for the next hundred years. Don't I get a vote?"_

TBC

 **A/N** *I didn't make this up: it's the real list, for the year ending 12/31/13. Next: boys' names. Thank you for listening in to the baby talk.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Since you brought up ice cream, Beckett," Castle says, "it makes me realize that it's time for a snack."

"Technically you're the one who brought it up," Beckett says, "by suggesting that we call the baby Serendipity. And speaking of baby, The Nameless One is telling me that it's snack time—but fruit, please, not ice cream."

 _"_ _I didn't say that, Mom. You're supposed to tell the truth. And you're a cop! I definitely want ice cream."_

"No ice cream for you, then. How about a pickle? I know it's a vegetable, not a fruit, but close enough."

Beckett laughs and rolls her head off his chest. "How about an orange?"

 _"_ _At least you chose citrus. Do you know that I hate bananas? And kiwis?"_

Castle rises from the sofa. "One orange, coming right up."

There's considerable crashing and banging coming from the kitchen, but Beckett knows better than to ask. When he walks back to the sofa, he's carrying a plate, which he hands to her, and a bowl, which he keeps.

"Aww, that's adorable. You made me a baby face out of orange sections. Thank you. I love that you used the peel for the hair. It looks like a punk rocker's. You think the baby will have hair this color?" she asks, holding up a bit of peel. She reaches out to tilt his bowl toward her and peer inside. "You're having orange sorbet, Castle? That's so, well, restrained of you."

"I'm keeping you two company, Beckett," he says happily, sitting next to her again. "Healthily."

She pops a piece of orange into her mouth and chews on it. "Yummy. You have your phone ready? For the boys' names?"

"I do," he says, briefly relinquishing his sorbet and calling up the list. "And away we go. First, Jayden."

"Really? I don't know a single baby named Jayden."

"How many babies do you know?"

"Good point. I admit it: only one. Sarah Grace Ryan."

"That'll be changing in a hurry, Kate, believe me. So. Number two, Ethan. Number three, Jacob. Four, Daniel. Five, David. Six, Noah."

"Wow, that's a very Biblical group, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is. And to finish, seven, Michael; eight, Matthew; nine, Alexander, and ten, Liam."

"What do you think, Castle?"

"I think that I'm glad that Tom isn't on the list. Even gladder that Josh is conspicuously absent."

"Oooh, still jealous after all this time?"

"Pot to kettle, Beckett, pot to kettle."

 _"_ _What's the matter with those names? Dad sounds like he really doesn't like Josh. Hey, was Josh mom's whatchamacallit? Her muse?"_

"No Tom and no Josh," she says, poking him in the ribs. "You think the parents of sons had better taste than the ones with daughters, Castle?"

"Well, I could easily have picked Noah, but now that I know a zillion people already have, I won't. What about you?"

"Alexander's beautiful, and it's your middle name, which would be nice, but it's so much like Alexis. Alexis and Alexander as siblings?" She shudders. "It's like bad twins. Too cutesy."

Castle noisily licks his spoon. "Agreed."

"I suddenly need to take a nap," Beckett says, unable to suppress a yawn. "I'm sorry, I know you wanted to talk about names, but at least we still have plenty of time to come up with one."

"And we've eliminated twenty, or nineteen, thanks to the double Sophia," he says, lifting Beckett's legs onto his lap. "But at some point we'll have to discuss middle names, too."

She looks at him through half-closed eyes. "The kid won't need one. With Beckett-Castle for a last name, and whatever we choose for a first one, that's enough of a mouthful, don't you think?" And she falls asleep, right there on his shoulder.

 _"_ _A mouthful? I don't know what that means, but it reminds me. I'm hungry! That orange wasn't nearly enough."_

TBC

 **A/N** I'm stunned by your response to this story. Thank you!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

 **A/N** Reviewer lisac0304 is worried that the baby sounds like Bruce Willis and asked me to describe the baby's "voice." I hope that this will put your mind at ease.

It's a cold, bright March afternoon and Castle and Beckett are taking a walk along the Hudson. The weather has been so damp and gloomy that they've spent almost no time outdoors for two weeks and Beckett in particular is a little stir crazy. They're so glad to be out that they don't even mind the Arctic wind that's slicing through their coats and forcing them to bend into it like marsh grass.

When they stop to watch huge chunks of gray ice flowing out into the harbor, he hugs her tight against his side. "Cuddling for warmth, Kate." he says.

"Huddling, Castle, huddling." She smiles and nuzzles the one tiny patch of skin on his neck that isn't swathed in a scarf. She's tracking the progress of a lumpy slab of ice when she blurts out, "It's the weirdest thing."

And then nothing. Castle waits two minutes, but when she still hasn't explained he can't contain himself. "Nobody loves weird more than I do. You gonna tell me or torture me with silence?"

"Seriously, this is seriously weird. You might think that I've lost my mind."

 _"_ _Tell him, Mom, please. It's freezing out here. If you tell him maybe he'll want to go home and he'll make us some hot chocolate."_

"I won't, I promise. Besides, you've never had a weird idea that I didn't love, especially one that involves sex."

 _"_ _Dad! Don't talk about sex!"_

"Don't get your hopes up, Castle. Although, come to think of it, it does sort of involve sex."

 _"_ _Mom!"_

"Then my hopes are sort of up. Go ahead and tell me."

"I love this stroll we're on, but it's freezing out here. Why don't we go home and you make us hot chocolate and I'll tell you about it." Huh? Where did that come from? She'd been looking forward to a really long walk. Huh.

Half an hour later, snug in the loft by the fireplace, Castle passes a mug of hot chocolate to Beckett. It's been her go-to drink this winter, ever since she found out she was pregnant. "So, weird, eh? I'm dying to know."

"It started when I got pregnant."

"Is that the sort-of-involves sex part? Me knocking you up?"

 _"_ _La la la la la la la. I'm not listening! I'm putting my fingers in my ears. Ow! Why didn't anyone tell me about fingernails?"_

"Yes. Well, just that it has to do with me being pregnant."

She's staring blankly across the room, and he wonders if she's nervous about whatever it is. "Kate?" he says, putting his hand over hers. "You okay?"

"Fine." She smiles. "Really. Only I think I'm hearing a voice."

"Oh, God, you're hearing voices?"

"No, no, _a_ voice. I think I'm hearing _a_ voice, singular. Don't worry, Castle."

"Well, when did this start?"

"You remember a few weeks ago, when we went for the ultrasound?"

"Of course. It's on my list of Ten Best Days of All Time."

"Yeah?" She's beaming now, with the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth. The look that does Castle in, every time. "Remind me later to ask you what the other nine are. And in what order." She leans over and gives him a long, deep, seductive kiss.

Oh, he's a goner. "Do that again, and I'll rewrite my Ten Best list."

She caresses his cheek. "Later. Right now I have to tell you about the voice. The first time I thought I heard something was while the doctor was doing the ultrasound."

"That was just the heartbeat, Kate. Noisy as hell, too."

"Nope, doesn't sound anything like a heartbeat. It's a little bit like a buzzing sound. It's indistinct. It's like hearing someone from the other side of the house: you know they're talking, but you can't make out any words."

Castle looks as if he's been hit by a train, but smiling ecstatically from the cowcatcher on the front of the locomotive. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Not that often, just often enough that it makes me curious. With two exceptions—at the ultrasound and when I went out with Lanie the other day—it happens only when we're together, just the two of us."

"Maybe it's hormones," he says, clearly hoping that he's wrong. "Or something you ate?"

"I can't believe that you're the one who's trying to explain this away, Castle."

"Oh, Beckett, believe me, I'm not trying to explain it away. So where is the voice coming from?"

"Uh, from me. I mean, from inside me. I think it's the baby talking. Saying something to me, or to both of us. Crazy, right?"

"No, no, no, this is the new Best Day of All Time, Kate! What's he saying? Or she saying? Can you tell whether it's a boy or a girl? This is incredible. We have to write down every word." He's already running to his desk in search of a pad and paper.

"Castle! Rick! Calm down. Come back, please." She pats the cushion next to her. "There are no words, Castle. It's more like a feeling, really, or a suggestion."

"But the baby is talking to you! What if I get Mother's Ouija board? Maybe we could find out that way."

"Yeah, or Google Translate."

 _"_ _Goo-goo translate, Mom. Get it? Get it? My first joke!"_

Beckett puts her palm on her stomach and grabs Castle's hand. "There!"

"What? There! There, there?" He points at her stomach and pokes it very gently.

 _"_ _Ha, Dad, gotcha to look!"_

"Did the baby say something?"

"It felt like it, for just a second."

"Wow. Wow. You know, it kind of makes sense, Beckett."

"This makes sense? Only in your universe, Castle." She presses her forehead to his shoulder. "You don't think I'm nuts, do you?"

"Absolutely not. I'm not even surprised. Any kid of mine is gonna be a talker. Remember what you said to me all that time ago?

"I said a lot of things to you all that time ago."

"When I said that Alexis and Ashley had a song and you said that we had one, too. 'You Talk Too Much,' by Clarence Carter."

Beckett laughs, and takes the last sip of her hot chocolate before tugging on his ear. "We have a new song now, Castle."

"Yeah? he says, tugging hers. "What is it?"

"'You Got Me, Babe'."

 _"_ _You talkin' to me?"_

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

It's 12:02 a.m. In the master bedroom of the loft, Beckett and Castle are out cold. They had wrapped up a thorny case just over an hour ago and once they were home had barely enough energy to pull off their clothes, brush their teeth and sway wearily into bed.

 _"_ _I love it when you and Dad brush your teeth at the same time. Especially the spitting noise. It's really funny."_

 **12:03 a.m.**

 _"_ _Oh, and when you gargle is funny, too. The best part is when Dad tries to talk at the same time he's gargling. He sounds like the garbage disposal."_

 **12:08 a.m.**

 _"_ _You aren't moving around at all, Mom. Are you asleep? I thought I heard you say good night to Dad a while ago. Is it night time? I don't know if it's night time or nap time."_

 **12:17 a.m.**

 _"_ _Is it midnight? I'm hungry, and it feels like the kind of hungry that usually gets a midnight snack."_

 **12:46 a.m.**

 _"_ _Are you still asleep? Because I'm wide awake, and it's pretty lonely down here all by myself. Plus it's booooorrring."_

 **1:03 a.m.**

 _"_ _How about if you sang to me, Mom? I love your voice, and if you sing me a song, I might be able to go to sleep."_

 **1:10 a.m.**

 _"_ _Could you roll over and shake Dad, please, to wake him up? Maybe he'd read to me. He likes to do that. Even though it would probably be something, what's that word you use? Inappropriate."_

 **1:15 a.m.**

 _"_ _Never mind. I'll just suck my thumb. That almost always helps me fall sleep. I heard Dad say that you have a picture of me sucking my thumb. How did you get that? I wish I had a picture of you and Dad. I want to know what you look like before I get out of here."_

TBC

 **A/N** Thank you for all your support for this gestational adventure.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Castle is sitting at his desk, trying to write, or pretending to write. They had gotten home so late last night after that monster of a case, and he's exhausted. But now it's over: Beckett is at the precinct, scaling an Everest of paperwork, and he's at home, scaling nothing. He's thinking Nikki-and-Rook thoughts, or he should be, but his mind keeps wandering to Beckett-and-Baby land. Who knew that a pregnant Beckett would be so adorable? Even more, who knew that a pregnant-by-surprise Beckett would be so sunny? But she is.

Okay, Rick: think Nikki, think Rook. Hmm. Maybe he should lie down. He gets some of his best ideas when he's horizontal. "It's the truth," he insists to the empty room as he takes to his office sofa in supine search for inspiration. He's asleep by the time "truth" leaves his barely parted lips.

Two hours later he opens his eyes, wide, to see Beckett standing right next to him. "You're home," he says. He hadn't even heard her. What kind of a father is he going to be this time around if he doesn't even notice when someone comes through the front door? Beckett could have been a marauding something, a marauding something or other, and he'd have slept right through her plundering the loft.

"Plundering, Castle?" she asks.

"What?"

"You said 'plundering'."

"I did? Oh, right, just dreaming."

"Hell of a dream there, Sir Richard. Plundering, eh? Where did you stash your armor?"

"It's around here somewhere," he says, sitting up and looking blearily around the room. "Or maybe it's at the dry cleaners."

She sits down beside him and gives him a kiss. "Rough day at the office, huh? You were really sound asleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

"How can you look so perky, Beckett?" He stops for an enormous yawn. "You slept even less than I did last night."

"I dunno. I think getting this energized me," she says, handing him a small, dark green shopping bag.

"Ooh, a present? You know how much I love presents! What's the occasion?"

 _"_ _C'mon, Dad, just open it!"_

"None, really," she says, with a smile that suggests an untold story.

He's onto her. He knows there's something. "And?" he asks, rotating his hand in the universal gesture for "keep talking."

She rests her head on his shoulder. "This morning, while you were still more or less unconscious, I was making tea in the kitchen and looking at the sonogram printout on the freezer door. And I thought to myself that our baby's first picture deserves a better setting than that. We shouldn't see it just when we're getting frozen spinach or an ice cube. So I got this on my way back from work." She gives him a little nudge and points at the bag. "Go on."

He tries to behave like an adult when he's unwrapping something, but he hasn't mastered it. He lifts out the present, tears the paper from the box, and yanks the top off to discover a nest of soft green tissue paper swaddling an exquisite, simple silver frame. "It's the baby!" he says, running his index finger over the sonogram image inside. "Thank you."

 _"_ _Yeah, Dad, it's me! Mom told the lady in the store all about me. She never talks to anyone about me, except to you. And the lady said, 'A gorgeous baby deserves a gorgeous frame.' That's nice, right?"_

Beckett moves her head so that her chin is on Castle's shoulder, and she looks down at the frame. "Baby's a thumb sucker."

 _"_ _What's wrong with that?"_

"A gorgeous thumb sucker," Castle says, turning his head to look at her, just inches away. "Did you suck your thumb, Beckett?"

"Put it this way. If the kid takes after me, you'll be glad you're rich. My parents practically had to take out a second mortgage to pay for my braces because I sucked my thumb for such a long time. What about you?"

"Nope."

 _"_ _Really, Dad? How come?"_

"Are you kidding? You, Mister Orally Fixated? You never sucked your thumb?"

"Really. Ask my mother."

 _"Right_ _, Mom, ask Gram. I bet he did. He likes fun things, and sucking your thumb is definitely fun. I bet he's telling a big fat fib."_

"You're on, buster," Beckett says and slides her phone out of her pocket. "I'm going to call her right now."

Moments later, Martha answers. "Hi, Darling. I'm about to have a drink with an old friend. Is everything all right?"

"We're all fine, Martha." She glances sideways at Castle. "I've got you on speaker, and I wanted to ask you something. Did Rick ever suck his thumb? When he was a baby, or a toddler?"

Her mother-in-law laughs. "No, no. He was too busy putting electrical plugs and God knows what else in his mouth. And when he got to be about three it was Play-Doh and paste."

"Okay, thanks. Have a good time with your friend." Beckett ends the call and looks suspiciously at Castle. "I can't believe it."

"I told you," he says triumphantly, as if he has won some moral battle. "But paper, I used to eat paper. And I did suck on pencils. Makes me think I was destined to be a writer. But never my thumb."

Beckett glares at him. "Don't mock it if you haven't tried it."

"Well, I'd suck your thumb any day," he says, making a grab for her hand and pulling her onto his lap. "And other parts of your body. I love sucking on those."

"Pas devant l'enfant, Castle."

 _"_ _What's that mean, Mom?"_

"You know I love it when you speak French, Beckett, even if I don't know what you're saying."

"I'm sure you know exactly what I'm saying."

 _"_ _I don't."_

"I know exactly what you're saying when I suck—"

Beckett swats him on the arm and tries not to laugh. "Castle! I just said, 'Not in front of the baby'!"

 _"_ _Uh-oh. Uh-oh."_

Castle kisses her palm and beams as he holds up the framed sonogram. "This little thumb sucker? Definitely your side of the family, Beckett. You're paying for the braces."

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Do you think this blouse looks too tight on me?" Beckett asks worriedly as she stands in front of the full-length bedroom mirror.

"There's no such thing as a blouse that looks too tight on you," Castle says, walking over to her for a close inspection. "Told ya. It's perfect."

She pulls sharply at the hem. "But my boobs are bigger now, so this blouse is tighter than usual."

"That's why it's perfect," he says, his grin the antithesis of her frown. "And a couple of months from now when your boobs are even bigger, the blouse will be beyond perfect."

"No, a couple of months from now I won't be able to button this over my boobs or my belly. I'll have to walk around naked."

"That's even better, Beckett. You walking around naked is beyond beyond perfect."

 _"_ _Dad likes it when you walk around naked, Mom? That means he'll like me a lot, too, because I'm naked all the time."_

"Thank you, Castle, even though you're no help whatsoever." She smiles wanly, unbuttons her blouse and moves to the closet shelf that holds a pile of sweaters. She pulls a few out, holds them up one by one, and finally settles on a dark blue cashmere turtleneck. "This should work," she says, and pulls it on over her head. "Good thing the weather is still cold."

Half an hour later, they're loading their breakfast things into the dishwasher. "You sure you don't want me to come with you?" Castle asks, before swallowing his last bite of bagel. "Moral support? Diversionary tactic for the boys?"

"Nope, but thanks. I think I should deal with this one on my own. It'll just be Gates and me, quivering on the other side of the desk."

 _"_ _Did you forget about me? I'll be there. I go everywhere with you, Mom."_

He helps Beckett on with her coat and kisses her goodbye. "You'll be great. Nothing to worry about. Besides, Gates has been in your shoes." He peeks at her feet. "Maybe not in shoes quite that high, but still."

"I'll call you later, tell you how it goes," she says, waggling her fingers as she leaves.

When she steps off the precinct elevator, she's relieved that neither Ryan nor Esposito is there; she had intentionally left home early in hopes of speaking with the Captain unobserved. She walks to Gates's office and knocks softly on the door.

"Do you have a moment, sir?"

 _"_ _I still don't know why you call that woman sir. Dad never calls you sir."_

"Of course, Detective," Gates says, gesturing to a chair. "Sit down."

Beckett is high on nerves, and decides there's no point in dragging this out. "Sir, I wanted to let you know that I'm pregnant. Expecting. Pregnant with a baby."

"That's wonderful news, Kate," Gates says with a genuine smile, "though not exactly news. At least, not to me."

The unflappable Beckett is flapping. "Um, what?"

"I figured it out a few weeks ago."

Beckett is blushing. "You did, sir?"

"Yes, I did. I am a woman, you know, and a mother. I have two kids, so I've been in your position. And condition. Only the captain I told was a man and he said, 'Too bad we wasted time training you as a detective, Gates, since you're gonna stay home with your kid now'."

"That was his response, sir? Didn't you want to smack him one?" Oh my God, what did she just say?

Gates doesn't wait even half a beat. "I did. Mentally I smacked him all the way to Jersey." Her lips turn up a fraction. "When are you due?"

"Just before Labor Day."

"I imagine that Mr. Castle is quite pleased with himself? Gives himself credit for perfect timing?"

Beckett coughs. She could swear that Gates chuckled. She had, she definitely had, which produces a bigger chuckle from Kate. "Yes, sir, he does. And he also thinks it's hilarious. When we found out he said, 'I can't think of a better way to spend Labor Day, can you, Beckett?'"

 _"_ _Is Captain Gates laughing, Mom?"_

"Dude! Is Gates laughing?" Espo asks, standing at his desk with an obstructed view of the Captain's office.

Ryan is gaping. "Yeah."

"Damndest thing I've ever seen. She's cracking up, bro."

"And it's Beckett in there with her."

The two women are recovering from their unexpected laugh fest. "Well, Detective. I assume that you're feeling all right."

"Yes, sir, fine. I'm very lucky."

"You'll have to go on desk duty eventually, but for now everything remains the same. Just be careful."

 _"_ _Desk duty, what's that? Does she mean you have to sit at your desk all day? What am I supposed to do? You'll be so bored, Mom. And if you're bored, I'm bored. I have to think of something."_

"I will. And sir, Doctor Parish knows that I'm pregnant, but I haven't told Esposito and Ryan yet."

"You'll have to tell them soon."

"I know, sir. Otherwise they probably wouldn't figure it out until we send the birth announcement."

At that, Beckett and Gates howl. They laugh so hard that the Captain has to get a box of Kleenex from a drawer so they can both wipe their eyes. "Thank you, Captain. I was nervous coming in here and you made it easy."

 _"_ _You should see what it's like in here when you laugh like that, Mom! I'm kind of flying around. Do that some more."_

"You're welcome, Detective. Now go out there and catch me a killer."

"Will do, sir," Beckett says, rising from the chair. She sees Ryan and Esposito hovering.

"You wanna tell us what all that was about?" Ryan asks when she gets to her desk.

"Good morning to you, too, boys," Beckett says, pulling out her chair and turning on her computer. "No, I don't. It was girl talk. You wouldn't get it."

"Oh, God," Esposito says. "Seriously? I thought better of you, Beckett. I'm going over to my desk now, and do manly things."

She gives him a look. "Manly things? Shouldn't you be saving those for home, Espo?"

Ryan snorts. "Shut up, man," his partner says.

An hour later, Beckett takes a break to call Castle and fill in him on her conversation with Gates. Except for the part about him.

"Sounds like it went really well, Beckett. And you can still be out in the field."

"Yup, for a while."

"I want to talk to the baby for a sec."

"What?"

"Just put your phone on your stomach so I can tell the baby something. You're rolling your eyes, right?"

"Right. Okay, I'll do it, but only because no one can see me." She puts the phone flat against her belly.

"Hi, baby, it's Dad. Listen, I've got the coolest idea for a present for mom, but it's for you, too. Don't tell her, though. Bye."

 _"_ _A secret! My first secret! And my first present! Dad, this is the best day!"_

 **A/N** Many thanks for your wonderful support for this story. I love hearing from you. You can even use baby talk.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

She's asleep, trying to stay asleep. She's half asleep. It's so nice and warm in this wonderful bed and she doesn't have to get up. Now she's only one-quarter asleep because something is tickling her belly. She'd like to go back to sleep, but this feels sensational. She lifts one eyelid and sees her husband's lips dusting the skin just below her navel.

"Castle? Are you about to do what I think you're going to do? Mmmmm. Because that is one of my truly, truly favorite ways to wake up."

"Not that, Beckett," he says, raising his head to look at her.

"Not that? Since when do you turn that down?"

"Later," he says. "Right now I'm telling the baby something."

She gives his ear a tug. "Not about what we're going to do later, I hope."

 _"_ _What are you and Dad going to do later, Mom? Why can't he tell me about it?"_

"No, it's a continuation of what I told the baby the other day when you were in the precinct and I asked you to put your cell phone on your stomach."

"Oh, that," she says, closing her eyes again. "By all means go ahead. I take it this is a private conversation, since I can't hear you."

 _"_ _Yeah, it's a private conversation between Dad and me. You'll find out later. It's a surprise."_

Castle's whispering is so low that only a bat, or the baby, could understand what he's saying. "Do you remember I told you I was going to get a cool present for Mom, but that it was for you, too? It came in the mail yesterday and I'm so excited. I'm going to give it to Mom in a few minutes." He kisses Beckett's stomach, and rolls out of bed.

Beckett feels the mattress dip and then spring back. "Where you goin'?" she asks sleepily and only barely intelligibly.

"I'm getting our tea. Be right back."

"'kay." She rolls from her back to her side and then on to her stomach.

 _"_ _Mom, what are you doing? This is so uncomfortable. I'm getting squished. Can you go back to the way you were before, please?"_

Beckett rolls onto her side again, and small parallel lines appear between her eyebrows. She loves lying on her stomach. Why doesn't it feel right? Never mind, she'll activate her mental snooze button again.

When Castle returns to the bedroom, carrying two mugs of tea, she sits up.

"Mmmm, that smells delicious," she says as she takes her tea from him. "Raspberry?"

"Yup, and peppermint for me." He smacks his lips, puts his mug on his night table and kneels on the floor. His upper body disappears under the bed.

"What are you doing?"

"Just getting this," he replies, popping up and clutching a large box to his chest. He crawls into bed and places it in between them. "It's for you," he says, nudging her thigh. "Well, for you and a little bit for the baby."

"Should I open it?"

"That's the idea."

"Nice bow, Castle," she says as she unties the three-inch wide ribbon. She opens the box and takes out two packages, each a bulky blue rectangle that weighs about five pounds. She lifts off the one on top and holds it up. "A bullet-proof vest? Oh my God, look what it says!" She reads them aloud, the white, block capital letters, "POLICE + 1."

"I had it made!" Castle crows.

"No kidding," she says, trying to sound stern and failing. She looks closely at it. "I hate to sound gloomy, since it's custom, but this is going to be too big for me."

"Try it on, Beckett. Here, lean forward and I'll help you." He secures it with the straps and says, "See? You can make it tight but there's plenty of room to grow. You need a bigger one than you have because you're bigger now, and you'll be getting a lot bigger."

"Castle!" She's baring her teeth. Not a good sign.

He puts his hands up. "Temporarily bigger. Temporarily. Because it's you and the baby in there."

She looks seriously at him and runs her palm down the front of the vest. "Is this NYPD approved?"

"Of course!"

"Not the vest part, Castle, the lettering part."

"Oh, well, um. Now that you. Uh, I'm not sure."

With one quick move, even though she's slightly encumbered by the vest, she's on top of him. "Doesn't matter. Thank you. I love it. And I'm sure the baby will love it."

 _"_ _Am I the plus one part? I like that. But it's not going to be my name, is it? I think other kids will make fun of it."_

She leans over Castle's chest and gives him a scorching kiss. "Lemme see the other one, Castle."

He holds up the second vest, this one bearing the legend POLICEMOM. "Great, right?"

"Yes, but there is no way I'm wearing that at work. No way."

"Once the baby gets to be five or six, we're going to play cops and robbers. You could wear the POLICEMOM one then. Maybe I could get a matching one that says WRITERDAD."

"I bet you already ordered that, Castle."

"I bet I already did, Beckett."

She's straddling him, and she arches her back, pinning him with her best come-hither smile. "How do I look in my new vest?"

"Almost as good as you'll look out of it. In five, four, three…"

TBC

 **A/N** Thank you for all the fantastic feedback. I've got a long way to go with this story, and it's a huge help.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

How is it possible? Yesterday there was nothing and today there's something? A few minutes ago, Beckett had stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a large towel—although "large towel" was redundant in this house, since Castle's idea of the minimum acceptable size was eighteen square feet. She had put moisturizer on her face, hung up the towel, and started applying body lotion when kaboom! There it was. Right there. Right there.

For her entire life—or her life until a moment ago—her stomach had been the human equivalent of Bolivia's Salar de Uyuni, the flattest place on the planet. And now, all of a sudden, it isn't. It has a curve. She's not crazy, she can see it: a little curve. It's barely more than the right-hand half of a parenthesis, but still, there it is. She pokes at it, uses all her fingers to pull her skin taut over it, and it's still there. She's officially convex.

Beckett has never been sentimental. She prides herself on it. She has never gotten misty-eyed over a Hallmark card or sighed over a kitten. But now? Standing in the bathroom wearing nothing but a sappy grin and Jo Malone grapefruit-scented lotion on one leg? Now everything's different. She has a baby bump. "Hi," she says, looking at her stomach and patting it. "Hello." And she bursts into tears.

 _"_ _Hi, Mom. What's up? Wait, are you crying? Dad! Get in here! Mom's crying!"_

"Castle! Castle! Come here! Right now!"

He's so startled by her voice that he drops his Forbidden Planet mug on the kitchen floor and doesn't even notice that it's now in a hundred pieces. He races to the bathroom and slides to a halt in front of his naked wife. "What's wrong?"

Beckett points to her stomach. "There."

"There? Does it hurt? Is it the baby?"

"There. The bump. It's a baby bump. See?"

Castle has seen her naked countless times, though if he really applied himself he could probably come up with the actual number. But never before has he seen her without a stitch and looked at nothing but her stomach. He puts his palm there, on her silky skin, and spins her part-way round so that he can see her in profile. "Yeah!" he shouts. "It's the baby!"

 _"_ _What? Dad, I've been here for ages. I know you know I'm in here. You talk to me all the time."_

"Sorry if I scared you, Castle. I didn't know I'd get so emotional."

 _"_ _I bet I know what Dad's going to say. He's going to say something like it's just a bump in the pregnancy road. He loves to make jokes like that."_

"It's an adorable bump in the road of pregnancy, Beckett."

 _"_ _Told ya! See, I'm really getting to know you."_

"Right, Castle. I have to get dressed, I'm freezing."

He goes back to the kitchen and finds the scattered, shattered remains of his favorite mug. He doesn't care. It was worth it. Seeing Beckett's reaction a moment ago was worth every mug, cup, saucer, plate, bowl, platter, and glass they own.

While Castle is reconciling himself to the loss of his favorite mug, Beckett is in their bedroom trying to do the same with her favorite pants. She had worn them a week ago: perfect fit, as always. But when she slipped into them just now, they were too tight at the waist. She couldn't button them without wincing. What the hell, had the cleaners shrunk them? She'll try again.

 _"_ _Ow! Yikes! Mom! You're strangling me. Are you trying to suck in your stomach? Because I need some room."_

Oh. Oh, God. She's such a nitwit. She smacks her forehead and laughs. "Duh. It's the bump. That's why my pants don't fit."

 _"_ _This is my fault? No! How can it be my fault? I didn't do anything."_

She decides to wear the pants anyway, leave the button undone, and wear a top that's loose enough to cover the gap. She puts on an especially lethal pair of heels and smiles: they still feel fine.

In the kitchen, all traces of the Forbidden Planet debacle are gone. When Beckett slides onto a stool, Castle has tea and half a grapefruit waiting for her. "Big day, Beckett," he says.

"I hope you're not referring to my waistline, Castle."

"I'll rephrase that." He leans over and kisses her. "Happy Bump Day, Beckett."

She kisses him back. "That's better. Thank you. Happy Bump Day to you, too."

 _"_ _What about me? Isn't anyone going to wish me Happy Bump Day?"_

"So how is the bump today, anyway? Hungry? Does bump want a buttered bagel? Blueberries? Bacon? A boiled egg?"

 _"_ _Bump wants a doughnut."_

"Toast, please, Castle. That yummy multi-grain bread we got at the farmers' market yesterday."

 _"_ _What about my yummy doughnut?"_

"Bump's toast, coming right up."

 _"_ _Is that going to be my name from now on? Bump? Because I think I liked Plus One better."_

"Wait, Castle. Sorry, I changed my mind. I'd really like a doughnut."

"Atta girl. That's my cop talking."

 _"_ _No, it's Plus One talking. Thanks for changing your mind, Mom."_

TBC

 **A/N** I mean it, I can't thank you enough for your enthusiasm for this story.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"I don't want to do it," Castle says sullenly, hunched in an office chair.

"God, Rick, you sound like a five-year-old. 'I don't wahhh-nna.' Well, tough, because you have to. You have no choice." Gina stabs the document on her desk with a red-lacquered talon. "It's in your contract."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"What isn't in your contract, but which I'm going to emphasize right now, is that I expect you to be a model of warmth and charm at your signings and on your interviews. No looking bored or zoning out. I know that you excel at feigning interest, and you'd better make a hell of a show of it."

"Yeah, well you're the expert at faking it, Gina, as I vividly recall. And tell me one time, one time, when I've failed to give my all to fans or to interviewers."

Silence. The two are having a glare-off in the publisher's office. It goes on and on. There is no clear winner.

Finally Castle says, "You have my word. I will be on my best behavior. And then no more tours until the next book. That's it. I mean it. And you can consult my contract. There is no stipulation—even if you tried writing one in invisible ink, and believe me, I checked to see if you did—that I have to do another until next year." He stands up. "No need to see me out."

"Fine. Have a good trip. My assistant emailed your tickets, itinerary, schedules, and contact information for each city and each venue. If you need anything else, just call her."

"Right."

He decides to walk home, to detoxify after his exposure to the venomous Gina. He really, really doesn't want to go on this book tour. On the other hand, it's probably better to go now and not when Kate is about to deliver, or right after the baby arrives, when she'll need him around a lot more. And in a year, when he takes his next tour, the baby will be more than six months old. Sleeping through the night. Sitting up. Eating applesauce and avocado and yogurt. Eating better than he does, come to think of it.

A few blocks later, Castle stops and inhales deeply: the nose knows. There's a pizza place within sniffshot. Nope, not going. Well, maybe. He'll just peek in. He pushes the door open; yes! Avocado pizza. Very healthy. Really doesn't even count as a snack. His kid will be eating avocado this time next year, so this is kind of a pre-bonding experience. He buys a slice and eats it happily as he continues his walk to Broome Street, but the closer he gets, the gloomier he feels. He doesn't want to go on tour. FaceTime is all very well, but it doesn't keep you warm at night or have sex in the shower with you or laugh at your jokes. Or even roll its eyes at them.

"Evening, Mr. C.," the doorman says.

"Hi, Marco. Everything okay with you?"

"Everything's good. Your wife got home about twenty minutes ago."

"Yeah? Thanks." Wow, that cheered him right up. He thought she'd be at work for at least another hour.

When he opens the front door he smells, could it be? Pizza. He feels slightly guilty, but only briefly. "Beckett?" He finds her at the counter, making a salad, and kisses her hello on the collarbone, where a little flour from the dough is clinging. "You made dinner already?"

"Yup. I got home early. I was starving and I had a yen for pizza. It's in the oven."

"Not the only thing in the oven, Beckett," he says giving her a hug around the waist.

 _"_ _What else is in the oven, Dad? You see something in there besides pizza? Mom's not the only one who's starving around here."_

"Should I be expecting these witticisms on a regular basis from now until the end of August, Castle?"

"I'll try to think of at least one a day. Keeps me on my toes."

 _"_ _Why does Dad need to be on his toes? I thought he was really tall already. Sometimes I don't get you guys."_

"I can hardly wait, Castle. But in the meantime, would you set the table, please? We'll be eating in a couple of minutes."

Later, when they're sitting happily with nothing but crumbs left on their plates, Beckett ruffles his hair. "I love that you put out wine glasses, Castle, even if we were drinking grape juice."

"It's all part of maintaining our high standards, Beckett. I refuse to use Flintstones' glasses except at breakfast."

"So, you ready for your trip tomorrow? The bump and I are going to miss you."

 _"_ _Plus One, Mom."_

"I did everything I could to get out of it."

"I'm sure you did. But I'll be fine, we'll be fine, and you'll be back in two weeks. You won't recognize me because I'll be huge."

"You won't be huge. Besides, I'll keep track. We'll FaceTime every day."

And for the next thirteen nights, before Beckett turns off the light and goes to sleep, she rubs her stomach and says, "It's just you and me, kid."

But on the fourteenth she rubs her stomach, says, "Dad will be home tomorrow," and turns off the light.

 _"_ _Night, Mom. I missed Dad. But it's been fun having this big bed all to ourselves."_

TBC

 **A/N** 10,000 words down, 40,000 to go. You are phenomenal cheerleaders. Thank you!


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

The weather is dreary, and a cold, heavy rain has been falling all day. Beckett and Castle are stretched out on the sofa reading when he rubs her ankle with his foot.

"You want to go to the movies? We haven't been in ages."

"I do, but I can't bear the idea of putting on rubber boots, playing dodge-a-brella on the sidewalk and having to hold a wet raincoat on my lap in the theater."

"Good point, but I'm in the mood for a movie. How about I check your Netflix list?"

"It's very different from yours, Castle. You might hate everything on it."

"I might, but since marriage is the fine art of compromise, why don't we watch one of yours and then one of mine?"

"A double feature? It's a deal. You know what? You'll make a great negotiator if you decide to give up writing."

 _"Dad's giving up writing?"_

"Not giving up writing, Beckett."

 _"That's good, because when I learn to read I'm going to read all of Dad's books and_ _then I want him to write some about me. Junior Detective! I already know a lot from following you around, Mom."_

Castle brings up Beckett's movie list. "The first thing on here is _Two Days, One Night._ Oh, shit, it's in French?"

"With subtitles, so don't get all riled up. I've been dying to see it. Marion Cotillard got nominated for an Oscar for it."

"Oh, Marion Cotillard, now you're talking my language. And if it's a French movie, I bet she's going to be naked."

She pinches his big toe. "Actually it's Belgian, Castle, and it's a serious movie about a serious subject. A woman who has emotional problems gets laid off when she's on leave and she can get her job back only if several of her co-workers give up their annual bonus. The thing is, they all really need it, but she goes to see each one of them anyway, to plead her case."

"Fine, let's watch, after which we get something from my list. But I will definitely be choosing from the comic relief section."

Half an hour later, Castle squeezes Beckett's thigh. "You know, I have to admit it, this is pretty good, even if she has her clothes on."

 _"Hey, this isn't good, it's terrible. I don't know what's happening. I can't understand any of the talking. Dad, help! Can you read me the subtitle things?"_

When the movie ends, Castle turns to Beckett. "Could you do what she did?"

"Go to Espo and Ryan and other detectives and ask them basically to take a pay cut for me when they need the money? I don't know. It took a lot of guts. She was so emotionally fragile, but she was thinking of her kids."

 _"The lady in the movie had kids? There's another thing I didn't know."_

"You have guts, Beckett. And you have a kid to think of now, too."

Beckett feels a little mushy at that. "I do. I really do. And I think of it all the time."

 _"Thanks, Mom. Even though I wish you wouldn't call me 'it'."_

"So, you ready for my movie now? Something a lot jollier?"

"I'm feeling pretty jolly right now, believe it or not, but sure, fire away. Your turn."

"Since this is a double feature, do we get a cartoon?"

"Not sure how much more jollity I can take right now, Castle. Another time, okay?"

He looks disappointed, but not for long, as he considers what he has chosen for them. "This is a comedy classic, Beckett. Charlie Chaplin's _The Gold Rush_. I bet I've seen it twenty times, and it still cracks me up."

"I've never seen it."

"What? Why?"

"Never had any interest, really."

"Are you kidding me? Oh, my God, it's genius. I promise you. It's a life-altering experience."

 _"Mom, do you want to alter your life? I heard you say it was perfect."_

Within minutes, both of them are chuckling.

 _"Did the movie start? Why are you laughing? I don't hear anything."_

Not long after that, they're guffawing. "Oh, my God, Castle, I can't believe the way he's eating his shoe."

"And licking the nails."

 _"What? Dad? Your movie is worse than Mom's!"_

"This is making me revise my thinking on silent movies, Castle."

 _"Silent movies? This is a silent movie? You mean with no talking? No wonder I don't get it."_

"I should hope so, Beckett. What about the baby? Think the baby liked it?"

 _"Oh, boy, I can't wait to tell you in person."_

TBC

 **A/N** Many thanks for your wonderful support for this.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Hey, Javi, you think something's up with Beckett?" Kevin Ryan asks his partner, tilting his head ever so slightly in the direction of their team leader.

Esposito spins around in his chair and looks squarely at her. "Like what?"

"When I say that, you're not supposed to stare at her. She'll know we're talking about her."

"We are talking about her."

"That's not the point."

Espo's eyes narrow. He's beginning to look cranky around the edges.

"The point is, man, she's been acting funny lately."

"Funny like how?"

"Look at her right now, I mean, don't look, look. Just look casually her way. See? She's just staring at the wall."

"She does that a lot."

"Yeah, but she's smiling while she's doing it. Spacey, you know? Usually she's all squinty and chewing on her pencil."

"That's not much. What else?"

"Well you know when LT had to bring his sister's dog in here the other day? That yappy little poodle with the hair ribbons and pink coat? Beckett was carrying it around and cooing at it. I swear to God. Was saying 'Awww, you little cutie.' And then—"

"There's more?"

"Yeah, yeah. And then she said the dog's collar was too boyish and that at lunch she'd go buy it a pink sparkly one. And she did. I saw the damn thing."

"Maybe you got something after all, Ryan. Now that I think about it. Yeah, yeah. And another thing."

"What?"

"Watch and learn." Espo pushes himself up from his chair and walks straight through the bullpen. A minute later, he's on his way back, holding a bag in his hand, and he stops at Beckett's desk.

"Want a chip?" he asks, offering her the open bag.

"Huh?" She focuses at last. "Oh." She dips her hand in, withdraws an enormous fistful of chips and smiles before turning to work at her computer. "Thanks, Espo."

"No problem," he says, and saunters to his desk.

Ryan asks a question with his eyes.

"Right? Ever see Beckett eat more than one chip? She took half the bag." He risks craning his neck to check on her. "Yeah, she's eaten all of them. Like a freakin' vacuum cleaner. She's been eating a lot like that lately."

 _"_ _Ooh, Mom. Where did you get these chips? From Esposito? They are the best. Really salty. Can he be my Godfather?"_

"Huh. You think she looks like she's gained weight?"

"Maybe."

"See, I noticed that lately she's had on these baggy sweaters which are totally out of fashion—"

"You been reading _Vogue_ , Ryan? You are an embarrassment sometimes."

"No, but I noticed something you didn't, so I guess my detective skills are a notch above yours. What I'm saying is, when was the last time you saw Beckett wear anything baggy?"

Espo coughs, looks around the room for potential eavesdroppers, and scoots his chair closer to his partner's desk. "I didn't say nothing before," he whispers, "because I don't want to sound like a scumbag. But do, uh, her, do her, uh, does her chest look bigger to you?"

"Aggh, Javi, I can't believe you said that. About Beckett! Geez. Talking about Beckett's…" He shudders, then looks furtively at her. "But you know, you're right." He pauses, and his eyes light up. "Oh, man. I know. I know exactly what's going on."

"Spill."

"She's pregnant. I remember when I said that to you once before, you nearly killed me. Right before she left to go be a Fed. But I bet you a hundred bucks I'm right."

"Yeah, well you had pregnancy on the brain then because of Jenny."

"Okay, maybe, but think about it. She's married. Natural progression."

"Think we should say something to her?"

"Are you crazy? No, man. Maybe you could ask Lanie. She'd know."

"No way. I'd like to hang on to my own baby-making equipment, thanks."

"I guess we'll find out eventually? So we won't say anything yet."

Both men turn to paperwork, but after twenty minutes, Ryan's curiosity has blossomed to a state of uncontainability. He makes his way to the break room and says, "Beckett? You want some coffee?"

"No thanks, Ryan, I'm fine."

A few steps more and he's inside, looking out the interior window to Espo. He mouths, slowly and dramatically, "SHE SAID NO TO COFFEE! CASE CLOSED!" He fetches a mug for himself and makes the return trip, this time humming "Lullaby and Good Night."

Beckett's head snaps up. "You singing a lullaby, Ryan?"

 _"_ _That's nice, Mom. I like that one."_

"Who me? No, not me." His face is already red. "I mean yeah, maybe. You know, thinking of Sarah Grace."

She raises an eyebrow, which is enough to effect paralysis in her colleague. "Really? At," she makes a show of consulting her watch, "ten o'clock in the morning? Isn't your kid's bedtime around seven? At night?"

"Yeah, but it's always good to practice. I'll just get back to my work."

"Kevin!"

Paralysis returns. He doesn't move.

"Stay. Right here." Beckett pivots towards Espo. "Javi? Care to join us?"

"Join you?"

"Yes, we're having a nice chat. Please come here. Now."

 _"_ _Wow, Mom, you sound really tough! What's going on? Can you ask him to bring those chips with him for your chat?"_

Espo gulps. She may have said please, but he knows a command when he hears one. Like, "Get your ass here this minute or you'll regret it for the rest of your pitiful life." He joins them.

"We're going into interrogation one," Beckett says, pointing the way. "Since there's going to be a little interrogating going on. I'll be asking the questions, by the way."

The two men slink to the perp side of the table, and sit down. Beckett remains standing. "You have anything to say?"

"What?" Ryan looks as innocent as possible. "No. I don't know. Why are we here, Beckett?"

Espo follows, in echolalia. "Why are we here, Beckett?"

 _"Yeah, why are we here, Mom?"_

"You think I haven't noticed you today? You've been staring at me. Gawping, gaping. Making little trips by my desk. Whispering. You want to explain that?"

"If we were staring, and I'm not saying I was, it was because you look so nice. Today. You look really nice." Ryan looks even more desperate than he sounds. Like a twelve-year-old caught reading _Playboy_ and denying it, even with Miss February draped over his knees.

"So you're saying that usually I don't look nice?"

"No, not at all. Right, Javi? We were just saying how you always look nice."

"Really. You think I always look nice. I'm flattered. Okay, did I look nice yesterday?"

"Definitely!" Espo says. "You looked great, just even better today."

"What was I wearing yesterday that make me look great?"

Uh-oh. Busted. He shoots a look—a bizarre blend of supplication and hostility—at Ryan, since he'd gotten them into this. Ryan remains silent.

"Uh, pants?"

 _"_ _I hope you had pants on Mom! You were at work. But I know you haven't been buttoning them for a couple of days. You said it was my fault. If you didn't button them, did they fall off? I bet everybody would remember that."_

"What color?" She's really enjoying this.

"Blue?" Her eyebrow goes up again and Espo tries not to cringe. "Maybe black?"

She slaps her hand down on the table and thrusts her face just inches from Ryan. "You're the Dapper Dan here, Ryan. You tell me. What else was I wearing yesterday, besides blue or maybe black pants?"

"I seem." He clears his throat and moves his head back an inch. "I seem to remember a top? A top of some kind."

Maybe it's the squeakiness of their voices, or their expressions of unrelieved terror, but she breaks. Beckett sits down in the straight-back chair opposite them and laughs.

Ryan opens his mouth, but shuts it, with a whimper, when Esposito delivers a kick to his shin.

She's still laughing. She may never have laughed this hard, this long, ever.

 _"This is great, Mom. It's like a tilt-a-whirl in here! Don't stop laughing."_

She stops long enough to note that whatever emotional state the boys had been in when she started guffawing is considerably worse now. She takes a deep breath. "Okay, guys. It's okay. I couldn't help myself. You guys are so transparent."

"Excuse me?" they say, as one.

"Go ahead, ask me."

"Oh, we weren't going to ask you anything, Beckett," Ryan says.

"You're a terrible liar, Kevin. I don't know how you ever pulled anything over on a nun. Remind me to invite you over for poker." She turns her head towards Esposito. "You weren't going to ask me anything?"

"Absolutely not, Beckett."

"Okay, then." She stands up, smiles at them, and flicks some imaginary lint from her oversized sweater. "Since you weren't going to ask, I guess I won't tell you that I'm pregnant." She turns and walks cheerfully out door, leaving her two slack-jawed colleagues at the table.

 _"_ _Mom? I'm not really sure. Did you tell them about me or not?"_

TBC

 **A/N** Continuing thanks to everyone who is reading this story, especially to those who let me know what they think.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Castle, I understand. I do. I know that you really, really, really want to know, but I don't," Beckett says as they're getting ready to leave for their appointment.

"I can keep a secret," he says, pouting while he puts on his shoes.

"You'd try, of course you would," she says, running a hand down his arm. "But somehow, somewhere, sometime, you'd be bound to slip up. Then I would have to shoot you, and the baby would be fatherless."

 _"_ _Don't shoot, Mom! Please don't shoot!"_

Castle stands up behind her, brings his arms around her and nuzzles her neck. This should do the trick. "I bet I can get you to change your mind," he says, resorting to his best bedroom voice.

"I'm sure you can," she says sultrily, turning around in his embrace so that they're standing nose-to-nose. "If you change diapers twenty-four/seven for the first year, and if you actually go through labor instead of me, I'll change my mind. How's that, hot stuff?"

He sighs dramatically. "Okay, Beckett. I know when I'm beat. You ready?"

"Yup," she says. "And cheer up, we'll get to know a lot of other things."

"Not the same," he says grumpily, opening the front door and ushering her out.

Half an hour later, they're sitting in the doctor's office waiting room and twenty minutes after that, Beckett has finished her exam.

"You can come in now," the nurse tells Castle, who follows her to the room where his wife is lying on a table.

"Good morning, Rick," Doctor Fisher says. "You ready to see your baby?"

"I am, but Kate isn't."

"Not true, Castle. I'm completely ready. I just don't want to see everything."

"By not everything, she means nether regions, Lotte," Castle says. "She doesn't want to know the baby's gender."

"And I gather you do?" The doctor smiles at him. "Well, this is not a democracy, so if Kate doesn't want to know I'm afraid you can't either. It's her body and her call. I'm just going to step out for a minute and then the tech and I will be back for the sonogram."

 _"_ _What about me? I don't know the difference between boys and girls yet, so I don't know what I am. Can't the doctor even tell me?"_

"Thanks, Lotte," Beckett says.

Castle decides to mount one last offense in his battle of the sexes. Genders. "Don't you want to stop calling the baby 'it,' Beckett?"

She looks up at him from the table. "You know, Castle, if we were Swedish we wouldn't have to worry about that. The Swedes have a new word, a gender-neutral pronoun. It's _hen_ , instead of _han_ for he or _hon_ for she. Why don't we just referring to the baby as 'hen'?"

"Well, in English, which is the only language I speak, 'hen' definitely sounds like a girl to me. Maybe we can just stick to 'it'."

There's a knock on the door and the doctor and technician come in. "We're all set. Dory will make sure that the baby is in a position which doesn't reveal any, um, nether regions before she lets you see the screen, okay? And Kate, you know the drill. I'll put some gel on you first and then we can start."

 _"_ _Whoa! Not that stuff again! It's freezing. Maybe if I swim the other direction I can get away from it."_

"You can go ahead and look," the tech says. "The baby's legs are obscuring—"

"The important bits," Castle finishes.

The soon-to-be mother turns to the screen. "Wow! Look how big the baby is! So much bigger than the last time."

"Yes, the baby's about ten inches long and about eleven ounces," the doctor says. "The size of an artichoke, or a banana."

 _"_ _I hope that's better than a kumquat, but I've never heard of an artichoke. It sounds funny. It doesn't mean I'm going to choke, does it?"_

Castle is looking closely at the screen, willing the baby to move. "Is that eyelashes? Does the baby have eyelashes?"

"It does," the doctor says.

"I hope it gets your eyelashes, Beckett."

She smiles. She can't say much right now, just thinking about her little artichoke-banana. But later, on the way home, Beckett unbuttons her coat. "The weather's getting warm now that it's the middle of April." She takes Castle's hand. "Everyone's going to know I'm pregnant now. Can't hide under big sweaters or coats."

"You don't mind, do you?"

"I thought I would, but I don't." She's quiet for a bit. "I really want it to be a surprise, Castle. I don't want to know if it's a boy or a girl until it gets here. Ordinarily I hate surprises, but for this I am making a really happy exception. You don't really mind not knowing, do you?"

"I'll live with the suspense," he says, chuckling and swinging their arms. "Besides, it adds another level to the pool."

"The pool?"

"Oh, you know there has to be a pool. At the precinct. There's a pool for everything. Espo, Ryan and I once bet on which candy would be the first one to run out in the vending machine. I bet there's at least a grand in this one already. Date, weight, height, and now gender. Four things instead of three. Should really up the ante, having to bet boy or girl."

"For the next twenty weeks, Castle, it's just our hen."

"Or rooster."

That gets him a slap on the wrist.

 _"_ _So am I a hen or a rooster? I guess I'm just a little chicken right now. But I'm not chicken, I'm really brave. Get it? I love jokes!"_

TBC

 **A/N** I can't say it enough: thank you all for your support.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

The victim, dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a Yankees T shirt, is a few feet inside the chain link fence on a construction site in lower Manhattan. There are five living people grouped around the body—Beckett, Castle, Esposito, Ryan, and Perlmutter—at six-thirty a.m., not long after sunrise.

"John Doe," Espo says. "No wallet on him, no cell, prints aren't in the system, but the site manager might be some help. Thinks the guy looks familiar, so I'm gonna go talk to him now."

"Blunt force trauma, big time," Castle says, looking at the vic's crushed skull. "Must have killed him instantly."

"Ah, Mr. Castle, apparently you acquired a medical degree since last I saw you," Perlmutter says. "By correspondence course, I assume."

"Deductive reasoning, Perlmutter, especially given the gray matter oozing out of the back of the guy's head," Castle replies, with more than a touch of acid. "Not to mention the bat that a CSU over there is bagging and tagging."

Beckett shoots him a look. "Time of death, Perlmutter?"

"My best guess at the moment is four to five hours ago, but I'll—"

"Know more when you get him to the lab," Castle finishes for him.

"Castle," Beckett hisses. "Don't bait him. Could you go with Ryan and see about the bat, please? Since Espo is interviewing the site manager."

"Would it have taken a man to deliver a blow like that?" she asks the medical examiner, when it's just the two of them left standing by the body.

"Probably, given the force that was used, but it could have been a strong woman, especially since the victim is quite a small man. No defensive wounds, so he probably didn't see his attacker." Perlmutter looks around like a rat who is trying to decide if he should risk stealing a piece of cheese from a trap. His chronically dyspeptic expression softens as he looks at Beckett. "I realize that this isn't the most suitable moment or appropriate place, Detective, but I believe that congratulations are in order?"

Who'd a thunk it? Perlmutter? Congratulating her on her pregnancy? "That's so sweet. Thank you. We're very excited." She unconsciously rubs hand over her stomach.

 _"_ _Oh, hi, Mom. You're up. When did you get out of bed? We're not at home, are we?"_

Perlmutter, looking wildly uncomfortable, bends over the body and begins a close examination of the corpse's nose, which would be inhaling a vast quantity of dirt if its owner were still breathing.

Beckett leaves Perlmutter to his work and walks over to join Castle and Ryan, who are examining a bagged and blood-covered bat that is almost certainly the murder weapon.

"Beckett, you're going to love this!" Castle says. "Know what kind of bat this?"

"Looks a hell of a lot like a Louisville Slugger to me. You know, a _baseball_ bat."

 _"_ _Oh, are we at a baseball game? I finally get to go? It's about time."_

"Not just any baseball bat, Beckett. Wait 'til you see the insignia. And the date, June first. This is from last year's Bat Day at Yankee Stadium. Free bats to all fans 14 and under!"

 _"_ _I'm under 14! Do I get a bat?"_

"Ah, so you're thinking that whoever did this was at that game last summer?"

"Right."

"So we should interview, what, ten thousand kids?"

"Well, no, but you have to admit that this narrows down the field, especially since we haven't IDed the guy."

 _"_ _That's good, Dad. The field! Like a baseball field."_

"And another thing. Where are we?"

'What?"

 _"_ _Aren't we at the game?_ "

"What is the multi-lane road, currently clogged with early-morning traffic, on the other side of this construction yard?"

"The West Side Highway," Ryan answers tentatively, knowing full well that it is, but also fairly sure that this might be a trick question.

"Right but wrong," Castle says. "We all call it the West Side Highway, but officially it's the Joe DiMaggio Highway. You don't think it's a coincidence that a guy in a Yankees jersey is killed with a limited-edition souvenir Yankees bat next to a street named for the Yankees' Hall-of-Fame center fielder?"

"He's got a point, Beckett," Ryan says.

"He does. You're right, Castle. It can't be a coincidence."

"Maybe it was a Mets fan," Castle says.

Beckett is mulling something over. "Red Sox fan."

Castle smiles. "That's true, because no one hates a Yankee fan more than a Red Sox fan. You wouldn't believe what comes out of her mouth when the Yankees are playing Boston, Ryan."

 _"Something comes out of your mouth, Mom? What is it?"_

"True, but I meant that a Red Sox fan would take special pleasure in using a Jacoby Ellsbury bat. Boston hasn't forgiven him for leaving them for the Yankees."

Ryan looks puzzled. "How did you know it was a Jacoby Ellsbury bat? You haven't even looked at it."

Castle wears a wait-for-this-look.

"Because he was last year's Bat Day player," she says.

Ryan's eyes grow impossibly wider. "You knew that?"

"Watch this, Ryan." Castle turns to Beckett. "Bat Day 2103?"

"1998 World Series Champions."

"2012?"

"Curtis Granderson." She smiles. "Okay, enough of my embarrassing display of Yankee fandom."

"Way back before either of us knew her, she was actually a Bleacher Creature."

 _"_ _What's that, Mom? It sounds like you were an alien. I hope you have a picture."_

"Castle!" She whispers, her lips barely moving and her cheeks reddening. "That was supposed to be a secret."

"You told me when—"

"Never mind when I told you."

 _"_ _I want to know when he told you. Was it a special day?"_

Beckett puts her hand up. "Getting back to the case. Castle's right. I don't think all of this is a coincidence. Is that Espo?"

Esposito has just come out of the site manager's office trailer and is jogging over to them. "Got something," he says. "The manager did recognize him. Says he's a counter guy at the deli down the street where they sometimes get coffee. It's called Felipe's."

"How did he get in here, in the middle of the night? Ryan, they must have some security cameras since this is a building site. Can you and Espo take care of that while Castle and I go to the deli?"

 _"_ _We're leaving the game and going to a deli? Can we have a bagel?"_

A few minutes later, Beckett and Castle arrive at Felipe's and ask for the manager. "Mr. Sosa? I'm Detective Beckett," she says, showing him her badge, "and this is Mr. Castle. Could we speak with you for a moment? Maybe in the back?"

"Sure," he says. "Right here, though this door."

The three of them are squeezed between stacks of industrial-strength cleaner and oversized jars of mayonnaise. "Is there a problem, officer?"

"Detective."

"I'm sorry, Detective. Is there a problem? We like the cops here. I mean, police. We like the police. No problems here."

"Thank you, sir. Do you have an employee, about five feet five, dark hair, in his late twenties? Works at the counter?"

"Yeah, Alex Hernandez. And the son of a bitch—excuse me—didn't show up for work this morning. I call him, keeps going to voicemail."

"What time was he due?" Castle asks.

"He's supposed to come in at four-thirty, get things started, coffee, unload the bread delivery, things like that. And I get here at five-fifteen like always and the store is all locked up. So we get a late start and customers are banging on the door."

"Has Mr. Hernandez done this before?" Beckett asks.

"No, he's always been a real good worker. Been here four years. But the last few days, you know, he's been in a lousy mood, keeps texting his girlfriend, Carla, when he should be doing things. I had to talk to him about it."

"So you think he's having problems with his girlfriend?

"Yeah. Definitely. I heard him on the phone a few times, too. Really getting into it." He stops, and pales. "Is there something wrong? Why are you asking about him? I was so mad about him not being here I didn't even ask."

"We think he may have been in an accident. Could you give us his address, please? And his girlfriend's name? Does she live with him?"

"Yes. Sure, I'm sorry." He writes the address on a piece of paper and hands it to Beckett. "I feel bad now, going off on the guy. Is he okay?"

"We'll let you know, sir. Thank you for your help." As soon as they're outside again, Beckett says, "Huh. A hundred and sixty-fourth and Gerard."

"His address? That's right by Yankee Stadium."

"It is. Let's go check in with Ryan and Espo, see if they got anything off the tapes, before we head up."

 _"_ _What about a bagel? I'm hungry."_

The boys had, in fact, found plenty. The cameras had caught two men and a woman running down the deserted street shortly after one o'clock. Alex was in front, with the others chasing him. He climbed the fence and jumped over, and the others followed. Another camera picked them up inside, and though the footage was fuzzy, the violent act was clear. The woman—presumably Carla—brought a bat down savagely on the back Alex's head and he fell to the ground. She stood next to him while the other man quickly went through Alex's pockets. Seconds later they took off, and Carla dropped the bat. The two scaled the fence, and disappeared.

"That is one angry woman," Beckett says. "Espo and Ryan, if you can get all this back to the precinct, get things moving, Castle and I will go up to the Bronx. See if we can find Carla and her partner in crime."

They find her forty minutes later, calmly eating breakfast in front of the TV. No resisting arrest, and she offers up the name of her partner. Beckett calls in to have someone pick him up. Carla just wants to finish her coffee before they take her in. They say no.

If only every case were this easy. Carla is in interrogation with Beckett and Castle, busily justifying homicide.

"He goes up on the roof to watch every goddamn Yankee game and I'm down here in this piece of crap apartment. What did he think? He never paid no attention to me during baseball season, so I found Manny. He treats me good. Me and Alex have been having words. Anyway, last night Alex comes down from the roof—which he never does during the game, takes a cooler of beer and a sandwich and a bag of chips up there with him, I swear to God—and catches me and Manny on the sofa, fooling around, you know. Anyway, calls me a whore, says he was going to propose to me after the season but not anymore. Says he's going down to work right then, get the ring he bought me and come back here and throw it in my face. And he goes out and slams the door and I say let's go get the asshole, and I go to the closet and I grab that fucking bat of his that he got last year and which he loves more than me, and we go."

"So you and Manny, what, drive down to the deli?" Beckett asks.

"No, we take the subway, the D to the one, and then we walk over to the deli and there he is, coming out the door. So we chase him. And that was it. Had it coming, you ask me."

At the end of the day, paperwork done, Beckett is at her desk and Castle is in his chair next to her.

"Not a Red Sox fan, after all, Beckett."

"No, just a woman scorned. I hope Jacoby Ellsbury never finds out."

"This hasn't put you off baseball, has it?"

"Are you kidding? Let's go to the game this weekend. In honor of Alex."

 _"Yay, Mom! Finally! Go, Yankees!"_

They get up and walk to the elevator, calling out good night to the boys.

"Wait up," Ryan says. "I'm heading home, too. You coming, Javi?"

"Nah, got a couple of things to do. Night."

As soon as the others are safely away, Espo picks up his phone.

"You in, Perlmutter?"

"Yes, crass as it may be. Put me down for two hundred. I'll text you my bets—date, length, weight and gender, right?—tomorrow."

TBC

 **A/N** The pool is definitely on! Thanks to all of you in the cheering section.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

 **A/N** This chapter is an outer-limits T, but not quite an M. Just to let you know. (After all, this story is billed as romance.)

Their bathroom, which is so enormous that it could easily sleep five, is filled with steam, literal and metaphorical. "I don't know why we're taking a shower now," Castle says, putting the soap in the dish. "You're going to have your wicked way with me as soon as we hit the bed, and then when we'll be right back in here."

"Is that a complaint?" Beckett asks.

"Absolutely not. Just thinking about water conservation."

"We're already saving water by being in here together, Mister Suddenly Green. In fact, turn it off."

"Turn it off?"

"Yes. Off. And hand me the soap, please."

He decides not to ask why. She obviously has a reason and she's been so wonderfully unreasonable—no, that's not right, she's been, what, without reason? Oh, hell, she's been so _imaginative_ lately. More than ever. So he won't ask. He picks up the bar and passes it to her.

"Watch this," she says, and licks a drop of water from the side of her mouth. And smiles. Imaginatively.

"I'm watching."

She grips the soap in one hand and runs it slowly and sensually up her arm and across her shoulder, never taking her eyes off him. She palms it against her clavicle, swirls it over one breast, caresses her swollen belly with it. "I've wondered what it would be like to be this soapy when the water isn't on." She looks down briefly before returning her gaze to him. "All these silky little bubbles clinging to my skin, resting on my nipples, instead of just sliding off me to the shower floor. Slippery when wet, you know?" She runs her fingers in an arc below the curve of her stomach. "Very slippery when wet. See?"

He's almost panting. In fact, he is panting, and probably drooling, too, but he hasn't checked. "I see, but I want to touch."

"That's the idea, Castle. I want you to touch, too."

He reaches out but she stops him. "Take this, make your hands really soapy, and then touch."

He lathers his hands well and drops the soap into the dish again. "May I now?" he asks, showing her his sudsy hands.

She's standing with her feet a few inches apart and her arms held out straight from her side. "Please do. I insist that you do. Start wherever you like."

"I'm usually a leg man, you know, but I think I'll begin with a breast today." Her breasts have grown with her pregnancy, but his hand can still completely enclose one. He splays his fingers, feathers them over her nipple; he's still fascinated by how it has darkened. When he massages her whole breast, he feels her quiver. "Is that tender?"

"No, God, it feels sensational, the way your hand slides over me."

"You were right. This soap on soap, with the steam around us but no water. It's incredibly sexy."

"Keep moving, Castle, before I dry out."

"No danger of that Beckett," he says, moving his hand sinuously against the underside of her belly and then around her back to cup her buttock.

"Castle, go back to my boob. Please. Right now. What you were doing to my nipple."

He can take direction. In a situation like this, he excels at taking direction. He returns to her breast and before long is rewarded with a series of deep, variegated moans, and soon after almost violent trembling. She catches his hand and squeezes it so hard that he has to suppress a yelp. Is what he thinks is happening, happening? She's flushed, her eyes are shut, her breath is coming in short gasps and he hangs on to her until she topples against him.

"Beckett? Did you just?"

"Yes. God almightily, Castle. I did. With nothing more than your hand on my boob. It was unbelievable. Oh, my God. Can you turn the water back on? I feel a little weird."

"Weird? You feel weird? Let's get you out of here."

"Not weird, weird. Not I'm-going-to-faint weird. Weird like something I've never felt before. I just want to rinse off."

A few minutes later they're toweled dry and getting ready for bed. After brushing his teeth, Castle pulls on a pair of boxers.

"Why are you doing that?" Beckett says, turning from the mirror to look at him. "Take 'em off."

"Oh, okay," he says, stepping out of them.

"Keep up, Castle," she says, smacking him on the rear as she walks by him and into the bedroom.

 _"_ _Keep up, Dad. I don't know what she's saying, but it sounds like fun. Keep up!"_

By the time Castle gets to his side of the bed, Beckett is lying down with her hand on her belly. "Are you all right? Do you still feel weird?"

She's rubbing her stomach.

"Is it your stomach? Do you feel sick?"

"No, don't feel sick."

 _"_ _That's good. Me either, Mom. I feel great."_

"Can I get you something?"

"Yes, you and your magnificent mouth can get in this bed right now and give me another orgasm, as fast as possible."

"Oh, I know the fastest way possible, even if that is a really, um, odd but spectacular request."

He's as good as his word, maybe even better. After which Beckett is smiling, can't stop smiling, and takes his hand.

"It's the baby," she says moonily. "Felt the baby."

"The doctor said the baby can't feel anything when we have sex. Not a thing. She promised. Remember? I was worried about traumatizing the kid."

"No, Castle, I know that." She's looking and sounding so loopy. "No, it's. It's—I felt the baby. First time I've felt it, and I've been waiting. I thought it was just the orgasm, but it was the baby. That's why I wanted to go again, right away. Make sure I wasn't crazy."

"You always want to go again right away, Beckett," he says, not quite believing what she just said.

"I read about it but never thought it would happen, that the contractions of an orgasm can make the baby kick. And it did. The baby kicked. It kicked me. Both times. So my first time, and my second time." She's beaming now, and kisses his him, hard but gently.

"The baby kicked for the first time!" If he could dance while lying on his back in bed with his wife plastered up against him, he'd be dancing. "And all because I gave you —"

"Oh, God, Castle, you're really going to be impossible to live with now, aren't you?"

TBC

 **A/N** Huge thanks for everyone who's traveling along with me for this story. And for a guest reviewer in chapter 16: Thank you. Yes, I intentionally used the last names of real baseball players!


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Sorry that I have to go to the dentist when you have a surprise day off," Castle says after breakfast. "It shouldn't take too long, though. We can do something when I get home."

Beckett is still in her jammies. "Look at me, Castle. I love this. I'll hang around here until you get back. I have a book I've been dying to finish, so I'll be fully occupied with it while you're out. Oh, and also with the stud muffin who's hiding under the bed."

 _"_ _There's a muffin under your bed? Why didn't you eat that for breakfast instead of that boring cereal?"_

"Mmph," he snorts, and gives her a quick kiss. "See you later." At the door, he stops and turns around. "Don't forget the butter. You know, for the stud muffin."

She wiggles her fingers at him. "Bye."

 _"_ _Right, don't forget the butter for the muffin, Mom. It tastes a lot better with butter. And maybe some jelly, too."_

Beckett goes to fetch her book from her night stand, grabs a throw, and returns to the sofa. She makes herself a nice nest and settles in for a good long read.

 _"_ _It's so quiet. You've been reading for ages and ages."_

"Fantastic chapter," Beckett murmurs.

 _"_ _Fantastic for you, but boring for me. I've been wondering about this thing, you know, this tube thingy that's attached to my middle. What is it, anyway? I'm going to tug on it. Do you feel that?"_

Beckett scratches her stomach lightly, and turns another page.

 _"_ _If there were more room in here I could rappel off the sides with it. That would be so cool."_

"This is a great, great book. Why haven't I read anything else that he's written? Gotta look him up. I should get up and Google him, but I'm too comfy. And sleepy. And I can't believe I'm talking to myself."

 _"_ _I'm glad you're talking, Mom. Keeps me company."_

Beckett's eyelids are drooping. She's so cozy here. This book is so goooooodddd. And it slips from her fingers and lands in the middle of her chest.

 _"_ _Mom? Mom? Why did you stop talking? I think I felt your book fall over on us. Are you asleep?"_

She rolls onto her side and the book topples to the floor with a thunk.

"Mmmuh. I must have fallen asleep for a sec. Where's the book? Oh, there. Castle? Are you home? No, guess not. I'll read some more. What page was I on? Huh, talking to myself again."

 _"Sorry, I don't know what page you were on. I wish there were someone else in here with me. We could play jump rope with this."_

"Beckett?" Castle calls out as he drops his keys in a bowl. "I'm home."

"In here, Castle. Let me see your sparkly teeth."

"All the better to bite you with, my dear," he says, leaning over her from the back of the sofa. "You been reading?"

"Well, and snoozing. I didn't mean to. And the baby? You know, it kind of felt like it was playing."

 _"_ _I'm shaking this rope thing now, do you feel that? Will I have if after I get out, or is it going to stay in here? Wouldn't it be funny if I could it in a knot?"_

"Maybe it's something you ate."

"Don't think so. I haven't eaten anything in a while. And it was only granola."

" _I'll say it was only granola._ "

Castle walks around and stands next to her. "Is there room for me on that sofa with you?"

"There's always room for you on this sofa with me."

 _"_ _Yeah, Dad, but don't bite us! Hey, maybe you know this. Am I going to get teeth?"_

TBC

 **A/N** I haven't said this before, but thanks to the guest reviewers for all your nice comments. I'd respond to you if I could!


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Kate Beckett has known fear. She is on intimate terms with terror. She even experienced death, a sniper's bullet lodged in her chest, before doctors brought her back to life. But never before has she had to struggle with the kind of high-level trepidation that she's experiencing now. She doesn't even know how to categorize it.

She's in the bathroom, already dressed for the day. She's trying to put on a little light makeup, but her hand is shaking so badly that her mascara just brushed across her nose, leaving a feathery brown trail.

Castle comes in with a mug of tea and sets it on the counter next to her. "It's lemon balm. It should help reduce your anxiety."

 _"_ _Love that one. Lemon, yummy."_

"I don't know, Castle. I probably won't even be able to drink it without splashing it all over me."

"Want me to run out and buy you a bib? We could keep it for the baby. Good investment."

Beckett laughs. "Thanks for that."

"Look, Beckett. Kate. You don't have to do it. Really, you don't." He grabs a Kleenex and wipes the smudge from her nose, then holds the mug for her so that she can take a few sips.

"I do have to. And you know what? I bet it will be fun. I bet it will be a great day. And it means so much to her."

"That's true, but still."

"No, Castle, I'm ready. I really am. See? I even managed to get the mascara onto my eyelashes on the fourth try. I am capital R ready." She squares her shoulders and smiles gamely. "I'm ready to go shopping for maternity clothes with your mother."

"Attagirl," he says, throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her to his side. They walk to the living room, arriving just as Martha is coming down the stairs.

"Hi, Mother. All set? The car is downstairs waiting for you."

Beckett makes a face. "Castle, we don't need a car."

"Yes, you do. The driver will wait for you at each store. I'm not having you and my mother dragging around all over the city, especially with tons of shopping bags, trying to get cabs."

"I don't want you to spend the money," she says.

"Okay, then I'll take it out of the kid's allowance."

She laughs. "Good luck explaining that to your child six or seven years from now."

 _"_ _Yeah, good luck explaining that, Dad. Except what's an allowance? It's something I'd want, right?"_

"Let him spend the money, darling," Martha says. "It's not as though he doesn't have plenty of it. And believe me, we'll both be extremely grateful for that car after a couple of stops."

When the two women are walking to the elevator, Martha puts her arm through her daughter-in-law's. "I know that this is something that you would have wanted to do with your mother, Katherine, and I'm honored that you agreed to come with me. We may not have exactly the same taste—" Beckett raises a brow, and laughs. "All right, we definitely don't have the same taste, but I know that we're going to find some wonderful things. I'm an actor, you know, and I'm trained to walk in other people's shoes, to dress myself in their clothes, if you will—including today, when I imagine the signature item will be skinny jeans with a bellyband."

 _"_ _A bellyband? Is that something that's going around me?"_

"So you're saying that you're not going to try to talk me into a Martha's coat of many colors? In fuchsia, turquoise and orange?"

They're in the car now, and it's Martha's turn to laugh. She's secretly delighted that they can tease each other over this. "I won't. You have my word. What's our first stop?"

"Great Expectations. The next one is The Waiting Game, followed by Motherlode. Can you believe it? Who thinks up these names? It's embarrassing. But I looked at some of their things online and they looked promising. Almost like, well, regular clothes."

"When I was pregnant with Richard, absolutely everything was appalling. You were supposed to look like a little girl, for God's sake. As though sex hadn't had anything to do with why you needed maternity clothes. There were," she shudders, "bows everywhere, and little ruffles and puffy sleeves. And gingham! It's the only time in my life when I really had a bosom, and everyone wanted me to cover it up."

The car pulls up to the unfortunately named Great Expectations, and they get out. Sure enough, there are any number of things that both Beckett and Martha find acceptable. Even nice. And not at all embarrassing. Beckett tries on five times more things than she buys, but they leave the shop with two tops, two pairs of pants and a jacket, which Martha considers a good start. The Waiting Game yields three more tops, two pairs of skinny jeans, some silky evening pants, and another jacket.

"Do you want to take a breather, dear? I don't want to wear you out."

 _"_ _I don't know about you Mom, but I'm worn out. All the stuff you keep taking off and putting on and bending over and and zipping and pulling and stretching."_

"I'm fine, Martha. I find this oddly, I don't know, exhilarating. Are you all right?"

"Never better, Katherine. Can't keep a gal like me down. Let me take your bags."

They settle into the back seat for a cross-town ride. The traffic is horrendous. "Castle was right. This car was a brilliant idea. I'm not sure I could have faced Motherlode if we'd had to fight for a cab in all this."

It's Motherlode that lives up to its name. Every time Beckett goes into her dressing room with an armful of clothes, Martha is just a few minutes behind with offerings of her own.

"You should try on more dresses, Katherine."

"I don't really wear all that many, Martha."

"Ah, yes, but you're going to be pregnant all the way through summer in New York. And you'll also be a little furnace of your own. These will be a lot cooler than—what you usually wear. Besides, you can show off those gorgeous legs of yours. That reminds me. I'll be right back."

Beckett mumbles something which she hopes sounds appreciative. And when she slips into some of the dresses, she realizes that Martha was right. They will be better in July and August. When she'll be huge. She's just beginning to wonder where Martha is when she hears the knock.

"May I come in?"

"Of course." She looks in horror at the hangers in Martha's hand. "What are those?"

"Bikinis, dear."

" _Bikinis_? You think I'm going to wear a bikini?"

"Well, you always do at the house in the Hamptons," Martha says.

"But that was before—"Beckett gestures widely over her expanding middle, "this."

"So?"

"So?"

"Do me a favor, and try one on. Just one. I'll wait outside."

Beckett rolls her eyes for the first time that day. "All right."

Martha hears a little rustling and what she thinks is an "oooohhh." She knocks again. "Are you decent in there?"

"Yes, come in." She's standing in front of the mirror in a very simple, dark purple silky bikini. The bottom, with small ties on either side, dips just slightly under her baby bump. The straps of the top tie behind her neck.

Martha beams. "Didn't I tell you? You look glorious. Ravishing. Richard is going to get—"

Now Beckett really blushes, and covers her face. "Stop right there, please." She brings her hands down. "Okay, you talked me into it. And I have to say, it's incredibly comfortable."

They're finally finished, standing at the counter where two saleswomen are wrapping the piles of things they've bought. "I'm glad you proved to be as much of a clothes horse during pregnancy as you are the rest of the time," Martha says, giving Beckett's arm a squeeze.

While they're waiting, Beckett sees a rack of T shirts. "Hang on, I just want to check these." She starts flipping through the jerseys and stops at one. "Okay, I have to get this." She jogs back to the counter. "One more thing. This is really for Castle's benefit. I'll never wear it outside, but at home. What do you think?"

The white T shirt has an enormous red arrow that begins just above the hem and ends with a point about three quarters of the way up. Large red letters over it spell out I'M WITH HER. Martha laughs. "You're right. Richard will love it. Not as much as he's going to love that bathing suit, but he'll love it."

"You should have seen the one I didn't get. It was a nursing shirt, you know, with snaps at the shoulder?"

"Why didn't you buy that? It will be very handy."

"Because it said THANKS FOR THE MAMMARIES, and Castle would make me wear it every single day. All day. Starting now."

The two of them laugh so hard they have to hang on to the counter for support. Beckett finally pulls herself together. "I think I'm done for the day, Martha."

"Me, too, darling. Why don't we get some tea?"

While the driver begins to arrange a staggering amount of shopping bags in the trunk, the women duck into the cafe next door. Before they sit down, Beckett pulls her mother-in-law in for a long hug. "I couldn't have done it without you, Martha. You were amaze balls."

"Really, darling? Thank you. And we did well, didn't we? I think you have enough clothes to take you all the way through, don't you?"

"I can't believe it, but I do."

 _"You got a ton of clothes, Mom, huh? I'm glad. But you know what? I'M STILL NAKED IN HERE!"_

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

The day had to come eventually, and she had pushed it as far as she could. So now she's in the creaky elevator at the Twelfth Precinct, about to get off at her floor, and she's got a case of the jitters. She feels like a rookie. Well, she is a rookie. A pregnancy rookie. Detective Beckett may have been a member of the NYPD for more than a decade, but she's never been pregnant before, especially so visibly pregnant. Today is the first time that she has worn maternity clothes to the precinct and she's bashful about it. When she was leaving for work this morning—fifteen minutes later than she had intended because she had tried and rejected six sets of clothes before settling on this top and skinny jeans—Castle said, "Everyone knows your pregnant, so it won't matter. No one's gonna notice your clothes." Easy for him to say. He isn't the one whose belly now precedes him through the door and he isn't the one who is swathed from shoulder to hip in what feels like an acre of navy blue linen.

She has to fight to keep herself from peeking out of the elevator before stepping into the bullpen. "Suck it up, Beckett," she says to herself, wondering why she had chosen that particular adage, since she sure as hell can't suck up her gut at the moment. Ah, she's in luck. She left home later than planned, but she's still ahead of Ryan and Esposito, who are picking up Frank Matheson, a sleaze who is at the very least a person of interest in the homicide that they're investigating and probably complicit to some degree. She settles in at her desk and is making a good dent in her paperwork when she hears the elevator ping.

"Castle? This is a nice surprise. I thought that you couldn't come in today. Don't you have a meeting?"

"Cancelled!" he sings—actually sings—and puts a cup of tea on her desk. "It'll be so much more fun to watch you grill that slime ball Matheson."

 _"_ _Mom is grilling a slime ball? Is that like a meat ball? Are you having a barbecue?"_

"Your idea of fun is seriously warped sometimes."

"It's one of the things you love most about me, admit it," he says, dropping onto his chair next to her.

"I do. And thanks for the tea."

No sooner has she taken a sip than the elevator pings again, and a trio—a grinning Matheson, squeezed between a disgruntled Ryan and a pissed-off Espo—emerges. "This jerk has been running his mouth since we picked him up on a hundred and thirty-eighth," Esposito says.

"Speaking of which," Ryan says, "he was picking a lock at the time, so we have a few little charges to add. And then we have the pleasure of handing him over to you, Beckett."

"I was picking a lock, but you were picking your nose," Matheson says, beaming at his own high-level word play.

"Shut up," his escorts shout, in unison.

An hour later Ryan delivers Matheson—who is in the middle of a running commentary on the inadequacies of the police department—to the interrogation room. "He's all yours," Kevin says to Beckett, who is already seated at the table with Castle.

"Mister Matheson? I'm Detective Beckett, and this is Mister Castle."

"You can tell him to leave. I'm the only man you need in here."

Beckett ignores him. "Mister Matheson, you've been read your rights."

"Yeah, they shoulda told me I'd be talking to you. I got the right to put on a tighter pair of pants. Show my stuff."

Beckett continues to ignore him. "Can you tell me where you were between one and three a.m. on Tuesday the fourteenth?"

"Well, if I would of known you then, I know exactly where I would of been."

"Mister Matheson—"

"Call me Frankie."

"Tuesday," Beckett says sharply. "Between one and three in the morning."

"I don't recollect," he says, examining his grubby fingernails.

"How about I help you, then."

"Oh, you can help me with plenty, and I wouldn't mind helping myself to a piece of you."

Beckett can ignore Matheson, but she's having a harder time with Castle, who is sitting a foot to her right. He hasn't said a word, but he's radiating enough heat to bake a cake. She opens a folder, takes out an eight-by-eleven photo, and slaps it on the table. "That's you, Mister Matheson, at an ATM on a hundred and twenty-ninth. See the time stamp? It's one forty-three a.m. on the day in question."

He leans forward and looks closely at the photo. "Huh. Not me. Past my bedtime." He pushes the photo towards Beckett and leans back in his chair.

"Well, I guess you stayed up late that night, then. Unless you have an identical twin."

"Only one of me, baby."

"You want to explain to me how you got the card?"

"What card?"

"The one you were using to withdraw eight hundred dollars. Belongs to Joseph Del Vecchio."

"He was a buddy of mine."

"He died thirty minutes before this photo was taken. So, what, he gave you his ATM card and his PIN as a deathbed bequest?"

Silence. The little jerk is actually silent. Beckett stands up, confident that her height will intimidate him.

Matheson startles. "Hey! You're pregnant. I never seen a knocked-up cop before."

"It's a brave new world, Mister Matheson. Get used to it."

"So, who's the lucky guy? Somebody sure got lucky." He's looking her up and down now. "About five, six months ago, looks like. Am I right? Ba-da bing, ba-da boom. Ba-da bang. Definitely bang." He chuckles.

Castle can't let this one go by. He's steaming. "That's enough."

"Whoa! Hey! Wait, it's you? You? One of your little swimmers do the job?"

 _"_ _Swimming? Who's swimming? Besides me, in here."_

Castle is about to lunge across the table when Beckett puts her hand on his shoulder. She takes her phone out of her pocket and calls up her messages. "Hmm. Excuse us, Mister Matheson, we have to step out for a moment." The two of them leave, closing the door behind them.

"What was that?" Castle asks.

"Just a way for me to talk with you for a second. You can't let him get to you. I appreciate your wanting to defend me, but I've heard much worse. Much, much worse. Believe me. I know you're feeling all Daddy Bearish, but you can't get angry. Okay?"

Castle considers for a minute, even though he knows he has no choice. "I don't like it, but okay."

"Okay. Let's go."

"We're back, Mister Matheson."

He looks at Castle. "Can't believe that Slick, there, is man enough for you."

"Really?" Castle asks, calmly. "Not man enough? Why don't you ask your mother?" Beckett squeezes his knee under the table.

 _"_ _Dad's name is Rick, not Slick. It sounds like Slick, but he's Rick."_

"Hey!" He jumps up.

"Sit down," Beckett says, pointing to the recently vacated chair. "Now." He does, glaring at Castle.

"See, yesterday we downloaded some pictures from Mister Del Vecchio's cell phone, which we found inside one of his shoes. The most interesting ones were some selfies of him and a woman, taken not long ago. The kind of photos people used to call compromising." She opens the folder again and turns to Castle. "How would you describe them?"

He looks over her shoulder. "I'd go with kinky. Yeah, definitely kinky."

"And apparently he was going to post them on his Facebook page or Tweet them. He marked them, but they didn't go through. Since he was such a good friend of yours, I'm sure that you can identify her. She might be very helpful in this case, you know." She takes five photos and she lays them out in front of Matheson.

He leans forward again, and immediately rears back. "Son of a bitch! He was going to post those? Of her doing that? No wonder she killed him."

Beckett and Castle look at each other in astonishment. "She killed him?"

"Yeah."

Beckett schools her face and asks matter-of-factly, "Who is she?"

"My ex-girlfriend."

"Aha. And does she have a name?

"Melody Barton."

"And you know for a fact that she killed Joseph Del Vecchio?"

"Sure."

"How do you know?"

"She told me."

"When was that?"

"Right after."

"Right after what?"

"She killed him."

Beckett sighs. "Mister Matheson. Why don't you just tell me the circumstances. Beginning with how and where she told you."

"It was in his apartment. I came over to get something from him and she was there and I saw he was dead on the floor. She was like, 'I shot the bastard.' And I was like 'Oh. Any special reason?' I figured there was, because the guy was scum. He was my friend but he was shagging her when her and I were together. Which makes her scum, too, in my book, which is why I'm telling you. Plus, I'm not taking the rap for this."

Beckett rubs her forehead lightly. "And did she say there was a reason that she shot him?"

"She said he took some pictures and she wanted them back. In case things didn't, you know, work out. He wouldn't give them to her and they had words. She said it was a deal-breaker if she was gonna stay with him and he said it was his right to show her off. And she said, 'What am I, your personal property?' And he said yeah, so long as he was paying for her. So that's why. And for old time's sake I helped her out by looking for his phone but we couldn't find it. So we left."

"And the ATM card?"

"Oh, well, I figured he owed me. Stole my girlfriend. Changed his PIN to her birthday and told me, just to piss me off. So I took the card and got as much money as the ATM let me. I mean, he wasn't going to miss it, right?"

"We'll be back, Mister Matheson." Beckett and Castle rise from their chairs, stunned into silence, and leave the room. And laugh so hard they have to prop themselves up against a wall.

"I love this case, Beckett."

"Me, too. Think he used the same lines on Melody like he did on me?"

"I'd bank on it. I'd bank eight hundred bucks on it."

They finish the case by the end of the day. When they're riding down in the elevator, Castle says, "See? I told ya."

"Told me what?"

"Nobody noticed you were wearing maternity clothes."

She smiles at him. "When you're right, you're right."

At home, they're too tired to do anything but heat up some leftovers, which they eat in the kitchen. He finishes getting ready for bed before she, and when she comes out of the bathroom she finds a present on her pillow. "What's this?" She picks it up and pinches it.

"I thought you might have a tough day at work, so I got you those. Won't need them for a while, though. They're from the baby and me."

 _"_ _They are? What are they? You didn't tell me, Dad. Shouldn't I know if they're from me?"_

"So," she says crawling across the bed. "Do I get to open this now?"

"Absolutely."

She unties the ribbon and unwraps the paper to find a pile of THANKS FOR THE MAMMARIES shirts. There are seven of them, in seven different colors. "Castle!"

"One for each day of the week," he says. "Mother might have mentioned have mentioned them to me."

Beckett topples onto his chest and gives him a loud kiss. "Thanks for the mammaries, Castle."

"I think that's my line, Beckett."

 _"_ _Isn't it my line, Dad?"_

 **A/N** With this chapter, this Summer Hiatus Ficathon story passes the 20,000-word mark! Thank you for being such fantastic readers and reviewers.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

 **A/N** This chapter is dedicated with the thanks to the Guest reviewer who is a health-care worker and to the person to whom she/he reads each chapter of this story aloud.

It's late. They're cuddled up in bed, but they're not quite ready to go to sleep.

"I've been thinking, Castle," Beckett says into his bare chest.

"Hmm?"

"You were right."

"Say that again. The second part."

She lifts her head up. "You were right?"

"Yeah. I love it when you say that. It's so sexy."

"You think everything I say in bed is sexy."

"You're right, Beckett."

She laughs, which makes him laugh, which makes her laugh some more.

 _"_ _You guys are laughing so hard you woke me up. What's so funny?"_

"So, anyway, you were right. A while back. About not wanting to call the baby it." She shifts slightly so that she can take his chin softly in her hand. "I still don't want to know if we're having an XX or an XY, so don't get your hopes up, bud. But what if we choose a gender-neutral name? At least something we can use between now and D-Day. We don't have to keep it."

 _"_ _It's about time, Mom! I don't have to be It or Bump or Plus One any more!"_

Castle kisses her softly. "And am I also right when I say that I'm sure you have some ideas?"

"Well, a few. I haven't made a list or anything."

He pushes himself off the pillow and reaches out to his nightstand. "Don't say anything until I get my phone. We need to write these down."

Beckett smiles to herself, tickled that he's so tickled.

"Okay, got it," he says, waving the phone. "You ready? Want to start?"

"Taylor."

"Ooh, no, Beckett. All I can think of is that dash-cam video of the chubby cops singing Taylor Swift's 'Shake It Off.' Remember that? I mean, it was hilarious, but no."

"Okay, smarty pants, your turn."

"I'm not wearing pants at the moment."

"So, smarty pantless, gimme a name."

"How about Reese?"

She snorts. "Let me guess what your inspiration might be for this. Reese's Pieces?"

 _"_ _I love that one! Choose that one!"_

"The candy? Absolutely not. You know I'm an m&m peanuts kind of guy. I just like the name. Your turn."

"Casey."

"As in at the bat? Or Casey Stengel? No baseball references, Beckett."

"I was thinking more of Casey Jones, the heroic railroad man famed in song and story."

"I was thinking more of Casey Jones, the masked vigilante famed in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles."

Beckett tries unsuccessfully to grab his phone. "Let's leave Casey off the list."

"You were the one who suggested it."

"True, but moving on, Castle. Next?"

"Jordan."

"You can't be serious," she says.

"What's the matter with Jordan?"

"What's the matter with Jordan?"

 _"_ _What's the matter with Jordan? Isn't that funny? Now we all said it! But what is the matter with Jordan? It's kind of nice. Not as nice as Reese, though."_

"Very nice name, Beckett."

"Ah, Castle, clearly you are casting your mind back to our halcyon days working with Agent Jordan Shaw, owner of the world's coolest toys.

 _"_ _Toys! Okay. I think I want to be Jordan instead of Reese."_

"Mmm, maybe."

"But Castle, really, Jordan? After all the agony you went through over the Jordan Motor Car Company? The term paper you paid for when you were a kid? Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Because now the name Jordan reminds me of your ice-cube trick. The night I told you about the Jordan Motor Car Company is the night you showed me that thing you do with ice cubes. A very, very memorable night."

"A very X-rated night, so not appropriate for our baby's name."

"What if our baby grows up to be a porn star?"

"Castle!" She smacks him lightly on the arm. "Mind out of the gutter, please."

"You're the one with the ice-cube trick."

"Oh, God," she says, dropping her forehead down against his collarbone. "Hey, how about Madison?"

"Nope. I know that that's your little-Castle-babies friend, but all I can think of when I hear Madison is the avenue between Fifth and Park. Don't want my child named after a street. So, maybe Dylan?"

"Drunken Welsh poet who died before he was forty."

"True, but a great poet."

"Okay, a possibility. Put that one on the list. How about another D, Devin?"

"Ooh, Ryan would love that. So Irish. What's your opinion on Jesse?"

"I like it, but I know a lot of Jesses. I'd rather have something less common. What do you think of Kit?"

"Oh, that goes to the top of the list. Kit. Short, easy to remember, but unusual. Nice on the ear. Best of all, it's a subtle reference to Kit Kat bars, which are an integral component of my personal food pyramid."

 _"_ _Yay, Dad! Call me Kit!"_

"Castle?"

"Yes."

"Let's keep thinking. Just not right now."

"Okay." As he turns his head towards her, the T shirts that he had given her a few days ago catch his eye. They're sitting in a neat stack on a chair until she decides where to put them. "Beckett, did you ever notice that the first five letters of mammaries spell Mamma?"

"Can't say that I have, but I'm not surprised that you did."

"You know, I think these shirts will be the gift that keeps on giving. Do you want to wear one now, to get used to it?"

She runs her foot around his calf. "No, I don't want to wear anything now, thank you."

"Perfect answer."

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"God damnit!"

Ooh, Castle doesn't like the sound of this. First, the actual volume, which has to be 100 decibels: he didn't know that a human voice could even reach that level. Second, it's very, very angry. He's standing at the stove, which is a long way from the bathroom, and he's wincing. Yes, that ungodly screech came from the bathroom, and it was definitely delivered by Beckett.

"Shit!"

Wow, that's even louder. Did she have some kind of training as a Wagnerian soprano? There are things he still doesn't know about her; that might be one. Though this shriek wasn't at all musical. It was more like the sound of metal on metal, like a five-car pile-up in a demolition derby.

"Another one? There?"

Okay, he should probably do something now—something besides getting tested for hearing loss. Should he stay here and continue making Beckett's Sleepytime tea, or should he go see what's bothering her? He knows she's not hurt; she doesn't react this way it she's hurt. If she were mad at him, she'd already be in here, so she must be mad at someone else. He counts to ten. Silence. Is she through?

"NO!"

Nope, not through. He puts down the mug, turns off the burner, and braces himself. After taking a deep, calming breath, he walks towards the bathroom. When he's ten feet from the door he calls out, "Beckett? Is everything okay?" No answer. Is it possible for her to be radiating so much heat that the room temperature has gone up? He moves slowly to the door, gingerly crosses the threshold, and sees his naked wife standing in front of the full-length mirror, glaring. If glaring were an Olympic event, she'd win the gold. She'd win the gold if nudity were an Olympic event, too, but the issue here is the glaring.

"Um, you're upset?"

"YES!"

"Can I help?"

"NO!"

Uh-oh. He'll try again. "Are you sure? I really want to help."

"Turn around, Castle."

"Oh, okay. I'm turning around."

"Don't look at me."

"I'm not looking at you."

"I'm hideous."

He turns back to Beckett. "My eyes are still closed, but I promise you that you are not hideous. If you let me open my eyes, I'll say it again. You are the least hideous person I've ever seen."

"Not any more."

He hears some rustling. Is she putting on clothes? "Beckett?"

"What."

"Are you getting dressed?"

"Yes."

"May I open my eyes?"

"I suppose so. The hideous parts are covered up now."

 _"_ _Mom, you just covered me up, right? I know I'm not a hideous part because you're always telling Dad I'm adorable!"_

Beckett is wearing a very long, oversized T shirt that she appropriated from his drawer. Boxers, ditto. She has gone from furious to dejected. She looks like a little girl whose doll has just been stolen, though he's sure that if anyone had ever tried to steal her doll she'd have a) gotten it back and b) left the thief abandoning, on the spot, the notion of a life in crime. Castle covers the distance between them in an instant and wraps her in a hug.

"Look in the mirror," he says, turning her so that her back is resting against his chest. "See? Hello, gorgeous." She looks only slightly less miserable. "Want to tell me why you're upset?"

"Okay," she says, edging the hem of her shirt up a few inches. "Look."

He doesn't know what he's supposed to be looking at. "Um, uh. Everything looks great."

"That, Castle," she says, raising the shirt a little higher and exposing a small area of skin. She pokes it with her finger. "See that?"

Does he need glasses? Oh, God, has the grim slide into old age begun? Does he need glasses? Because he doesn't see anything unusual there. "Still not sure."

"Castle! It's a stretch mark! A hideous stretch mark on my belly. I found out it when I got out of the shower. This wasn't supposed to happen."

 _"_ _What's the matter with a stretch mark? I stretch all the time, Mom. And I need to because there's not as much room in here as there used to be, did you know that?"_

He has a feeling that the tile floor just turned into quicksand and that he needs to tread very carefully. "Isn't it natural? I mean, a normal part of pregnancy? I don't even really notice it."

"Not every pregnant woman gets stretch marks, Castle. I've been drinking tons and tons of water and I haven't gained a lot of weight, so I shouldn't be getting them. Well, anyway, I thought I wouldn't if I did that. Hoped I wouldn't."

"Stay right here, I'm going to get something." He dashes to the bedroom, roots around in a drawer and comes back with a brown paper bag that he puts on the counter. He reaches for her T shirt and pulls it all the way up and over her head. "I'm going for the boxers now," he says, giving them a tug and sliding them down her legs.

"What are you doing?" She looks suspiciously at the bag. "What's in there?"

He opens it and empties the contents—a large assortment of jars and tubes—onto the counter. "They're stretch-mark creams."

Beckett is gaping at them. "You bought all those? You thought that I'd get stretch marks?"

"No, I just thought it was a possibility and I wanted to be ready if you did."

"All of them? You bought all of these? How did you know?"

"Well, I researched it. I don't just research creepy, disgusting things to do with murder, you know. This was much more fun. So I bought every one that had five or four and a half stars on Amazon."

She's smiling shyly. He finds it incredibly sexy that she can still be shy about anything in front of him. "You did that for me?"

"I did. And now I'm going to research your beautiful body to see if I can find those stretch marks that you claim are there."

She takes his hand. "Here's one," she says, putting two of his fingers on the side of her stomach. "See?"

He leans in and peers hard. "Okay, I see it. It's not bad at all."

"Yeah, wait till you see the one a couple of inches below it, and the two on my boobs."

"I'm going to enjoy this research. Let me get a closer look." He bends down and plants a loud kiss on one of the marks. "There."

"Kissing is not going to make it better, Castle."

"On the contrary, kissing makes everything better. Plus these creams help. We'll try all of them, but can I start with this?" He holds up a jar. "It's a four-and-a-half star one, but it has the best name, Mama Bee Belly Butter." He takes a dollop and rubs it gently across and around the stretch mark.

 _"_ _Ooh, Dad. That feels great. You have to do this every day."_

She's holding on to his shoulder now, and beginning to purr. When he takes some more butter and massages it into the lower stretch mark, she purrs some more, and wiggles.

"I think this one looks like my nose, Beckett. There's a little crooked part right there."

 _"_ _Your nose has a crooked part? I wonder if mine has."_

"Shut up. Just keep rubbing."

"I don't have to be told twice. But just a sec." He stands, puts the jar back on the counter and picks up a tube. "I'm trying a different one now, moving on to your boobs. See what magic I can do there." He looks closely and finds an infinitesimal stretch mark. "Ah, here we go."

Beckett's purr is beginning to turn into a moan. "Oh, my God, Castle. You're definitely magical. Don't stop. Don't stop."

He puts some cream on his other hand so that he can massage both her breasts at once. The purr is gone now; it's nothing but moan. He moves his head down to the base of her neck and begins to kiss his way to her ear. "Beckett," he whispers. "We forgot your tea. Shall I go get it? I just felt you shiver. The tea will help warm you up."

"Seriously? You think I need that to warm up? I'm already warmed up. Come here."

 **A/N** Special thanks today to everyone who has reviewed this story: with the last chapter, you pushed the odometer past the 500 mark, which is very exciting for me. Also, here's a tip of the hat to Mobazan27 for suggesting that I write about stretch marks.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"As of midnight, three hours from now, I will be on desk duty," Beckett says as she and Castle drive away from the precinct in her cruiser. "So yes, since this is my last day out in the field until after baby is born, I will wear the wonderful custom-made vest you gave me. I promise. But you do know that the boys are going to be merciless about it, right?"

 _"Mom, if you're not going to be in the field for a while can you turn on the siren? Please? I love that."_

"I do," he says. "I'll try to take some of the heat, too. Especially since it was my idea. Maybe they won't notice. It's almost dark."

"Not a chance," she says. "They'll be all over me. And you." She's trying to keep things light because she's a little apprehensive about where they're going: an abandoned building along the river, where they believe their heavily armed suspect in a double homicide is holed up.

A few minutes later, she pulls to the curb on a block that has one functioning streetlight, the others having been shot out by citizens who presumably have too much time on their hands. She and Castle get out of the car and walk around to the trunk; they pop it, lift out their vests, and put them on. Espo and Ryan are directly ahead of them; back-up is standing by two blocks south if needed.

"Looking good," Castle whispers, pointing to her POLICE + 1 vest.

Beckett hates having to make concessions to her pregnancy, but she has agreed to let the boys take point here. All four of them approach the warehouse quietly and carefully. No sooner is Ryan through the door than there is an explosion of gunfire; within seconds, it's over. Espo brought down the target with a debilitating shot to the shoulder and another to the knee. The man is still screaming and making colorful if useless threats twenty minutes later, when the ambulance takes him away.

"Son of a bitch won't be walking for months," Espo says cheerfully.

"Yeah, thanks, man," Ryan says as he fist-bumps his partner.

"They should all be this easy," Castle says.

"Easy? Easy? You think those shots I took were easy, man? Microsecond timing. Perfect control, nothing easy about it."

"Didn't mean it that way, Esposito. Just that we were in and out so fast, with the scumbag down. Good job."

Ryan suddenly turns to Beckett, stifling a laugh. "New vest?"

"Mm hmm. Don't say a word."

"No, no, I think it's cute."

Espo now sees what has caught Ryan's eye. "Plus One, Beckett? Really? Sounds like a wedding invitation."

 _"Nope. That's me, not a wedding invitation. I'm Plus One!"_

"Yeah, well, we all remember your plus one at Ryan's wedding. Your hot date was your cousin, for God's sake."

 _"You're dating your cousin? I heard someone in the doctor's office say that you aren't supposed to do that."_

"Where'd you get that, anyway?" Ryan asks.

"I got it for her. As a warning for the people she's facing down: this is not your ordinary Detective Beckett, this is enhanced Beckett, Beckett 2.0, if you will. Not that there's ever anything ordinary about Beckett—."

 _"Dad, I'm not two, I'm one."_

"Castle," Beckett says. "I think that's enough. And speaking of enough, I think I've had enough of this place. We can go back to the Twelfth now, get a little paperwork started before we all go home."

The four of them go back to their cars. "See you in a few minutes, guys," Beckett says.

"Wait. I think I dropped my phone back there," Castle says, gesturing vaguely towards the area where they had been standing a short while ago.

"Your phone? Why did you even have it out?" She puts her hand to her forehead. "Or do I not want to know?"

He leans in towards her. "I didn't drop my phone. I just wanted to get Ryan and Espo to leave so we could be here alone."

She's baffled. "You wanted to be alone here with me? In this romantic, dimly-lit waterside garden spot? We're lucky no rats have promenaded by, arm in scrawny arm."

Castle puts his hand on her shoulder. "Look around. Doesn't it look familiar to you?"

"Fortunately, no. I'd hate to think I've been here more than once."

Castle, still holding her by the shoulder, turns her to the left. "That's because the last time we came we approached from the other direction, and went to a warehouse—the one where Hal Lockwood had Ryan and Esposito—which is now that vacant lot. But look over here," he turns her again, "and what do you see?"

And suddenly it washes over her, a memory that had fueled her dreams for a long time. A memory that had kept her going in very rough patches. "Oh, my God, Castle, you're right. It was here. Right here." She nestles into him.

"Do you remember what you said when that guard was coming over to us, right before?"

She smiles broadly. "When we were pretending to be drunk? Of course I do. It may have been four and a half years ago, but I remember every second. I said, 'He's not buying it, Castle'."

"And then the guard went for his gun and you went for yours and then—"

"You grabbed my face and you kissed me. Probably the greatest first kiss in history."

"Followed immediately by the greatest second kiss in history, when you kissed me. And then you decked the guy."

"And what did you say then, Castle? To me."

He's chuckling. "I said, 'That was amazing, the way you knocked him out'."

She turns to look him directly in the eyes. "Fess up. You can tell me now. That's not what you meant, was it?"

"Noooo. I meant that kiss. Especially since your tongue had just been halfway down my throat."

"It was not."

"Was too."

"In your dreams, buster." She tilts her head. "You know how we can settle this?"

"No, how?"

"With a reenactment."

"I thought you'd never ask." He grabs her face and kisses her.

She grabs his face and kisses him, full force. "Mmm. You're right, Castle. Might have been a little tongue."

"Told ya." He looks almost wistful. "We're back where it all started, Beckett. Weird, isn't it?"

She kisses him again. "Only this time we get to go home together. Hurry up and get in the car. I have plans for you."

"Do they involve tongue?" he asks, smiling at her over the roof of the car.

"You'd better believe it."

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Esposito is surreptitiously tracking Beckett, who has just left her desk and walked into the break room. He turns towards his partner. "Have you noticed that? Why does Beckett keep getting up? Must have been ten times since we rolled in, fifth time to the break room. She's not getting coffee. Not getting tea. Not taking her mug in there."

"Don't ask me," Ryan says. "Maybe she's just stretching her legs. Jenny did that a lot when she was pregnant."

Espo glowers. "By stretching her legs, do you mean going to the bathroom? Because that's what I think you mean. She hasn't been to the bathroom once. And where she's mostly going ain't the bathroom. It's the break room."

"Why don't you just ask her?"

"You serious? I'm not asking her. Get my ass kicked."

Beckett is rooted to a spot in the break room, breathing deeply.

 _"_ _Mom, what are you doing? You keep jumping up and going somewhere but not doing anything."_

She takes a few steps forward, and inhales sharply, twice.

 _"_ _I hear you sniffing, Mom. No, you're not crying are you?"_

Ryan is craning his neck, trying to see what Beckett is up to without actually leaving his chair. "She's bowing her head, man, like she's praying. You're right. Something weird is going on with her." When he sees her slowly raise her head he immediately lowers his. "Watch it, I think she's about to come back."

"You're the one who better be praying, bro. Praying she didn't see you."

Beckett strides into the bullpen and smiles at the boys. "I'm gonna go grab some lunch."

Ryan is taken aback. "But it's only ten fifteen."

"Really?" she says, checking her watch. "Oh. Yeah. Well, um, I think I'll just stretch my legs for a couple of minutes. See you."

"Way to go," Espo mutters once Beckett is at the elevator, out of earshot.

"What?"

"Could you be any more obvious? God."

"Well, at least I was right about her stretching her legs," Ryan says, a little smugly.

As soon as she's through the precinct lobby and out on the sidewalk, Beckett pauses and does a quick survey of her immediate surroundings. She has only a little time or the boys will start wondering about her. Probably start a pool, Where's Beckett?, since there's nothing much going on at the moment, and they're bored. She nods, decision made. She walks forty feet to her left, makes another left, goes less than half a block and pushes open the door of a shop.

 _"_ _Ooo, Mom, yay! Are we where I think we are? I can never get you to come here."_

She seldom comes here because she likes small, independent places far more than chains. Castle, on the other hand, is a habitué: he loves the sweets that Starbucks displays enticingly in glass cases by the checkout counter. The line is short because it's the midmorning lull, but rather than join it, she takes a seat—the one closest to the baristas.

 _"_ _Why are we sitting down? We're in Starbucks, right? Please, please could we get a piece of their lemon pound cake? It's my favorite. The kind Dad sometimes brings you and you don't finish which means I don't finish and so he gets it."_

Beckett is wearing a dreamy expression. Her eyes are almost closed, her head tilted back, her lips turned up slightly. Any passer by might think she's asleep, were it not for her nose, which is twitching regularly. From time to time a sigh escapes, followed by a barely audible aahhhhh. She's taking what she calls–though she will admit this to no one—a CAB. A coffee aroma break. If she can't drink it, and least she can smell it. She'd rather have tea than stoop to that decaf swill. It's all or nothing, baby.

 _"_ _Now I get it. Mom's been smelling coffee! I remember at the beginning, when I was really tiny, I loved coffee. Mom drank a ton of it. And then one day after about a month, boom, it was gone. She stopped."_

She sits up, shakes her head and decides she might as well get something while she's in here. Besides, she kind of owes them, since they let her sit and smell the coffee for free. Maybe a piece of the lemon pound cake. Castle loves it, and he's coming into the precinct later. She collects the little paper bag and heads back to work.

 _"_ _You got the cake. It smells yummy. Why aren't you eating it? Please! Just a bite."_

As she walks to the Twelfth, she's suddenly hungry. She peeks into the bag. Hmm, maybe she'll have a little. Castle can have the rest of it. She breaks off the corner and pops it in her mouth. Huh, yeah, it really is good, especially that little strip of icing across the top. Better than she remembered. Maybe Castle won't get any of it, after all. She might have to finish it right here on the sidewalk. She does.

 _"_ _Thanks, Mom. That was the whole enchilada! Get it? I made up another joke!"_

Castle had arrived at the precinct while Beckett was mid-sniffathon in Starbucks and is shooting the breeze with Ryan and Esposito, who had wisely chosen not to mention the break-room trail that Beckett has been blazing. He turns when he hears the elevator ding. "Hey, Beckett," he says, and goes to her desk.

"Oh, Castle. Hi. I didn't expect you 'til later."

"Finished sooner than I thought. Where you been?"

"Oh, just out for a few minutes. You know, air out my brain."

He knows that look. That detectable-only-by-him scintilla of nervousness when she's trying to hide something. This will inquire skillful investigation on his part. He thinks for a moment, knows what might work. It's been working lately, anyway. He looks towards the break room. "I'm gonna get myself an espresso. You want anything? Tea?"

"Nope. No. I'm good." Oh, God, he's going to come to her desk and put that cup about ten inches away from her. And then he'll start talking and wave his hands around the way he does and that will just spread the unbelievably spectacular smell of the coffee all through the air around her. She can almost see little molecules of it dancing there, taunting her. That's it. She's going in there with him. Get close to the source.

Castle looks up from his coffee ministrations. "Oh. Change your mind?"

"Nope. Just like watching you work that machine. It's very sexy."

He smiles and looks through the window. Coast is clear. "Sexy, eh?" He grabs her for a quick kiss. Huh. What was that? He kisses her again. "Beckett? Have you been at Starbucks? You taste of their lemon pound cake."

 _"_ _Uh-oh, Mom. You're busted."_

"What? That's crazy. I never go to Starbucks."

Oh, she has been. This is it. "I am a lemon pound cake connoisseur, and I definitely taste it. In fact—" he leans in and licks the corner of her mouth, "there's my proof. A tiny crumb." He knows that what she's hiding is not the cake, it's the Starbucks. His mind is working as fast as it ever has. Aha, he's sure of it now. He takes Beckett's hand and with his other brings his cup under her nose. She moves just enough for him to feel it.

"Castle! What the hell are you doing?"

"It's the coffee, isn't it?" he asks, and lowers the cup. "I've noticed you the last couple of days. In the morning, you've been hovering over my mug, lingering by the coffee pot. Let me guess, you're getting high on the smell, right? You're running on fumes."

She drops her head against his chest. "Oh, God, Castle. I'm an addict. It's unbelievable. I just haven't had any coffee in so long and all of a sudden I'm really craving it. I mean, I've gone this long and now—." She stops for a moment and begins speaking very, very fast. "So I went out and Starbucks was the closest place and I went in just to smell the coffee but I felt guilty about not buying anything so I got the cake." She puts her fingers to his lips. "And please don't make the joke I know you want to make about smelling the coffee. Not when I've just made this horrible confession."

 _"_ _She's always saying she wants coffee. She whispers it but I can hear her. One time I heard someone say it would stunt my growth. Maybe she should have a cup because I'm growing plenty in here. I think that's why we're on desk duty, because I'm so big now."_

"I think I know what this is all about."

"Yeah?" She's mumbling into his shirt.

"It's the desk duty. You're not going out on cases, getting jazzed on that. So you're really craving the coffee buzz."

"You're right. Dunno why I didn't make the connection. I've been going stir crazy, cooped up."

 _"You?_ _What about me? I'm running out of room in here."_

She stands up straight. "Okay. I think I can handle it now. It's only for a couple of months. Thanks, Castle. You know what?"

"What?"

"You're a hell of a detective."

TBC

 **A/N** This story has passed the 25K mark—halfway to the Summer Ficathon finish line! Thank you very much for all your support.


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"I still can't believe they did it," Castle says from the edge of the bed, where he's putting on his socks. "I mean, who even knew they were dating? It's not like they had to hide it the way we did, since he's not on the job anymore."

"I'd probably have known if she had stayed at the Twelfth," Beckett says from the closet, where she is trying to settle on which shoes to wear. "I haven't seen much of her since she transferred to the Eighty-Eighth in Brooklyn. It's really nice that they're having this post-wedding party just for their cop friends."

"Where's the invitation, anyway? I never looked at it."

"Right there, on my night stand."

Castle reaches over and picks up the card. "You know, it's kind of dopily funny. 'Round up the usual suspects and put out an APB! Roselyn Karpowski and Grant 'Sully' Sullivan have tied the knot. Please join us for a cops rock celebration on Saturday, June 11, from 7 p.m. until no one is left standing. Hooligan's Hat, 1234 Flatbush Avenue, Brooklyn. Check your guns at the door.' " He glances up at her. "So, Beckett, you packin' heat? I want to see you check your gun at the door."

 _"_ _This is a party for a wedding? Does that mean we get cake?"_

She gives him a look. "No, Castle, the only heat I'm packing is this little furnace." She pats her belly. "And it goes with me everywhere. No checking it at the door."

 _"_ _Whoa, you mean me? I'm not a furnace, Mom, I'm a baby."_

"You ready to roll?"

"Yup."

They're taking a car service since Castle doesn't want to hold back on the booze and Beckett doesn't want to drive home if they stay very late. "You know, I always thought that Sully was the perfect nickname for him because he's such slob," Castle says as they move across the Brooklyn Bridge. "It's weird to think of him in a suit and tie and polished shoes now that he works for that security firm."

"A great guy, but a total slob. God, do you remember what he did to my desk?" She's laughs at the mental image. "It was like an archaeological dig and he was only there for a few months. I found a corned beef sandwich under some DD-fives that was at least six weeks old. I think penicillin was growing on it."

When they pull up to Hooligan's they can hear the noise before they're even out of the car. " 'Cops Gone Wild,' huh, Beckett?" Castle asks, taking her hand.

"Maybe," she says. "But I'm not dropping my top, big boy. At least not here."

 _"_ _Dropping your top? MOM! I don't know if I can blush, but if I can, I am."_

They walk into the old wood-paneled bar which has been brightened up with dozens of blue and white balloons. There are life-size cutouts of the bride and groom from the time they were rookies, with which many guests—some well on the road to blitzdom—are posing to take selfies. "Crazy in Love" is blasting from speakers. "Let's find the newlyweds," Beckett says.

Find them they do, dressed in blue suits and handcuffed to each other. "You'll have to hug us together," Karpowski says. "Can I say that your wedding present was the greatest ever? The personal organizer? Especially with this lug." She looks besottedly at Sully, who returns her soppy grin. "She came out for a whole week. Looks like Martha freakin' Stewart fixed our place."

"Don't forget it's a five-year plan," Castle says. "You can call her anytime until 2020, in case Sully reverts to his disorganized ways."

"You both look great," Beckett says. "Party does, too. We're gonna go get some food before the freeloaders really get in there. See you later."

As they make their way to the buffet table, she leans towards Castle. "Did you see that Sully already has mustard on his shirt? Maybe we should give them a five-year dry-cleaning gift card, too."

Castle is almost delirious when he sees the food, including the mustard. There are half a dozen kinds of pierogi, herring, pickled cucumber salad, beetroot and horseradish salad, cheeses, baskets of breads and ten different Irish beers. He loads up his plate and midway through his third pierogi says, "This is a great combo, Beckett. An Irish venue and Polish food. We should have thought of it for our wedding."

"Except neither of us is Irish or Polish, Castle, and there were only six of us there." She happens to glance in the direction of the bride and groom and sees Esposito huddling with them. She also happens to notice two things transpire, furtively and almost simultaneously: Karpowski looking directly at Beckett's waistline—or what used to be her waistline—and then handing a wad of cash to Espo, who nods and pockets it. "Castle," she hisses. "Did you see that?"

"What?" he asks, failing to keep a bit of herring from sliding down his chin.

"Karpowski and Espo. And don't look at them!" She glares. "She was sizing up my belly and then she gave Espo some money."

"So?"

"What so? She's obviously betting on the baby. There's a baby pool."

 _"_ _There's a baby pool? I don't need one of those. I swim around in here just fine. It's my own private pool."_

"Of course there is. I told you that ages ago, after the second sonogram."

"No, you said, 'There has to be a pool,' not, 'There is a pool.' Big difference, Castle."

"I think it's mostly semantic," he says, reaching for some cheese.

"Yeah, well, I hate it."

"Why? Everyone bet on us for years, when we'd finally do the nasty."

"So romantically put, Castle, especially here at a wedding party. And besides, that was different."

"How was it different?"

"Because it was a bet on the two of us. Now it's everyone staring at me, not you and me. All the time. Wandering by my desk to check me out. I feel like a freak show."

Castle turns to face her. "You're not a freak show." He leans in and kisses her. "You're way too beautiful to be a freak show." He pulls back, then kisses her again.

 _"_ _Dad, what are you eating? Get Mom to have some of that."_

"Okay, okay. You know what?" She smiles at Castle. "Maybe I should bet. I could get LT to do it for me, split the kitty with him."

 _"_ _Kitty? We're getting a pet?"_

"I love it when you're devious, Beckett." He tilts his head. "Hear that?"

"What?"

"The music. Our song. Would you like to dance?"

"That's not our song, Castle, nothing like it."

"It's our new song. Come here." He takes her hand, steers her onto the dance floor, and pulls her close against him. "It's that great Dave Matthews Band song 'American Baby.' Because that's what we've got here, right between us. An American baby."

 _"_ _Dad, ouch. You're holding Mom and me too tight. Keep doing that and I'm going to have to kick. Hard."_

TBC

 **A/N** I love hearing from you!


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

It's 12:30 a.m. Ten minutes ago Beckett, who had been reading in bed next to her virtually unconscious husband, had closed her book, turned off the light, slid down from her upright position, and rolled onto her side. Now she can't sleep. "Castle?" Her voice is a whisper. "Are you awake?"

Apparently not. She raises her voice a little. "Castle?" He looks like a sarcophagus, flat on his back, arms resting just below his rib cage, one hand over the other. If she put a crown on his head and a sword on his chest, he'd look like a dead medieval king. "Castle!" Still nothing. The man sleeps as though he has been drugged and then hit over the head with a rock. She runs her foot alluringly along his calf. Nope.

There are two ways of waking him up when he's out like this: one is X-rated, the other, G-. Much as she loves the former, she's too tired for it at the moment—although, who knows? Maybe he'll change her mind. It wouldn't take much. No, at least for now she's going for the latter. She starts to hum a tune, right against his bicep. He wiggles only slightly. She raises her lips so that they're just below his ear, and advances from hum to lyric: "I Get a Kick out of You."

His eyes open wide. "Beckett?" He turns his head sharply to the right and finds her inches away. "You're singing."

Her smile is wide. "I am. Was."

"Any reason for this serenade?"

"You mean in general, or specifically?"

He loves it when she's like this. "Both."

"In general, to wake you up. The song was a specific choice."

" 'I Get a Kick Out of You.' It's true, I always get a kick out of you."

She brushes his hair off his forehead, then takes his hand and pulls it onto her belly. "Yeah, well, feel that? The baby has been kicking like crazy ever since I went from sitting up to lying down. 's keeping me awake."

 _"_ _Mom, I was really happy where you were before and then you went and moved. It takes me a while to get comfy, you know."_

Castle moves onto his side so that they're pressed as closely as they can be. "Wow! He could be a football star with that kick."

"She could be a soccer star with that kick."

"Oh, soccer player, much better. Boy or girl. Don't have all those shoulder pads, the helmets, the concussions."

"We could name her Mia, after Mia Hamm. She was my hero when I was in high school. Still is. One of the greatest athletes ever."

"Oh, yeah, and she's gorgeous. She married that Red Sox shortstop, Garciaparra. If it's a boy, we could—"

"Castle, I'm not naming a boy Nomar."

"If we're going with soccer stars, I'd rather name her Brandi. For Brandi Chastain, the one who took her shirt off after she won the penalty shootout in the 1999 World Cup."

"Imagine your remembering that, Castle."

"Tearing her shirt off, glistening with sweat? Running around in her sports bra? Hard to forget, Beckett."

"I was actually referring to her winning penalty shot. Against China."

"Oh, yeah. That."

"The baby's quieted down. Think I can go to sleep now." She yawns and stretches.

"Good. So we have Mia or Brandi for a girl, just need to find a boy's name."

"Not Pele, Castle, sorry."

"How about—"

"Not Messi, either. That can be Sully and Karpowski's kid."

Castle laughs. "Okay, I'll keep thinking."

"Night."

"Night."

 _"_ _Night. Geez, I thought you guys would never stop talking."_

It's seven hours later. "Don't get up," Castle says.

"Mfwh gna."

"Stay there, Beckett. I'm bringing you breakfast."

"K gdd."

She hears the thump of a tray being deposited on the table, and then feels a dip in the bed. It's Castle's knee, followed by the rest of him. "Morning, Beckett."

"Morning. Lemme sit up."

"Have to say good morning to the baby. It's gonna love this. Wait." He pushes up her jersey until a wide band of her stomach is exposed, then presses his mouth against it and blows a raspberry right at her navel. "Ow!" he yelps. "Ow! Kicked me right in the nose."

 _"_ _Serves you right, Dad. That is a gross noise. Plus it woke me up."_

Beckett's laughing. "You should see your face."

"Well, it hurt."

"Oh, c'mon, you big baby."

 _"_ _What, is Dad a baby, too? I thought I was the only baby."_

"Okay, okay. I'm gonna get the plates. Made us waffles."

 _"_ _Yippee, Dad, you choose much better breakfasts than Mom. Sorry I kicked you before."_

She's propped up against the headboard and takes the plate that he's offering her. "Thank you. This looks great, Castle. Mmm, blueberries on top."

Castle settles in next to her and is about to dig in when Beckett leans over and grabs the edge of his plate.

"Just a minute, mister. What is that?"

His fork is suspended, midair. "A waffle."

"A waffle? How can you find it under the gallon of chocolate sauce and the cup of whipped cream?"

 _"_ _Mom. Please trade plates with Dad."_

"It's there, Beckett. It is the foundation from which the delicate architecture of my breakfast rises."

"Nothing delicate about that, but all right, Frank Gehry. I'm sticking with blueberries."

"Besides, I need strength for the experiments I'm going to do when we're finished."

Now her fork stops midair. "Experiments?" She sounds more than mildly apprehensive, like someone trying to swim ashore during a sudden electrical storm.

"Yup. Eat up, you'll see."

"I'm not sure if I should eat more slowly, to delay this scientific plan—is it scientific?—as long as possible, or eat as fast as I can and find out what the hell you're going to do."

"Nothing scary about it."

They settle on a normal pace. When they finish, Castle stacks everything on a tray and takes it to the kitchen. "Stay in bed. I'll be right back."

When he returns, carrying a small bag, Beckett says, "You're sure I'm not supposed to be nervous?"

"Absolutely not. Consider me the magician; you are the beautiful assistant."

 _"_ _What do I get to be?"_

"Where's your top hat?"

 _"_ _Oh, I want a top hat, too. I'd finally have something to wear."_

"Oh! You're right! Hang on a second." He tears through the door to his office; she can hear him rummaging through a closet.

She puts her head in her hands. "You have a hat, am I right? And a cane?"

"Of course," he says, standing proudly in the door way with both. "Ta da!"

"How come you're a magician? I thought you said you were going to be doing experiments, which to me implies science. Mad scientist, maybe."

"Something in between, but I like the accoutrements of the magician. That and mad scientists don't usually have beautiful assistants. So, are you ready?"

"I guess. What am I supposed to do?"

"Sit just the way you are, but push your legs out straight." She does. "Good. Okay." He looks into the bag and pulls out a paper clip. "I'm just going to put this on your stomach."

"I know I'm the mere assistant, but may I ask why?"

"You may, especially since you are the mother-in-making. I was so impressed by the kicking prowess of our offspring last night that I thought I'd see what it could kick off you. You know, so we could assess the strength. Here comes the paperclip."

"I can barely feel it, Castle." She looks at it. Not moving. "Don't think the baby can, either. It's probably too light. Try something else."

Oh, she's getting into this already. He won't say anything, but he's excited. He knew he could count on her competitive spirit. "Okay, I just wanted to start small. How about this?" He holds up a silver cufflink.

"Only one? Maybe you should try a pair?"

"Excellent point. I'll go get the other one." He walks to his chest of drawers, opens the box that holds all his cufflinks, and gets the mate of the one in his hand. When he arrives at the bed, he fasten the cufflinks together and positions them on Beckett's stomach. Nothing happens. Not a ripple.

 _"_ _You know what? I'm going to make you wait, Mom and Dad. Ha!"_

"You know what, Castle? Maybe we need something that kind of drapes over me. Has a bigger surface."

"Like this?" Castle is holding up a sheet of paper.

"Yeah, that's good. Try that. Here, let me put in on."

 _"Okay, Mom. Watch this!"_

The paper bumps upward and slides off Beckett's belly.

"Way to go!" Caskett and Beckett shout as one.

"What's next?" Beckett asks, eyes sparkling.

Castle looks into the bag, brings out an Oreo and grips it between his thumb and index finger. "This?"

"Might have known you'd have a cookie in there, Castle." She chuckles and points at her stomach. "Put it right there."

 _"_ _A cookie? This is going to be a good one."_

The Oreo is suddenly airborne, and lands on the sheet next to Beckett. She and Castle whoop. "One more, one more!" she says.

"I saved the best for last," he says, pulling two small objects from the bag. "Action figures that represent you and me, Elektra and Batman. Which one should I try first?"

"Are you serious? Neither. Those two are going together. Partners."

"I love your thinking, Beckett." He sits down next to her and carefully sets up the two figures.

 _"_ _Mom? Dad? Goooooaaaalllll!"_

Batman and Elektra take flight and crash land between the magician and the assistant, who clap wildly and high-five each other.

"Time for me to get up, Castle, but that was fantastic. I think we have our little Mia."

"Or our little Brandi. Or our male player to be named later."

 _"_ _To be named later, if I'm a boy? I shoulda known._ _"_

TBC

 **A/N** Thank you for your enthusiasm for this story. Stay in touch!


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Beckett has never approached the sofa this way before. She doesn't sit down on it. Doesn't perch tentatively on it. Doesn't hurl herself at it or sidle onto it or leap onto it, doesn't stagger or lurch. No, this evening the Empress of Energy does something she has never done before. She collapses. Folds up as if she were a marionette whose strings had just been cut. "Remind me," she asks Castle as her head rolls back. "Have I ever been this tired before? In the seven years that you've known me?"

"Funny," he says, sprawled next to her. "I think I was about to ask you the same two questions. Except I was too tired to frame them."

"I've chased people down alleys, jumped over cars, rolled down fire escapes, thrown myself out of windows, nearly been blown up, frozen, deep fried, and drowned. I've been drugged, choked, kidnapped, spat at, shot at, stabbed—but nothing like this. I really thought I was going to die. Die while at a desk—okay, table. Who'd have thought?"

"Would have made a hell of an obituary, Beckett. And at least we'd have gone together to the great beyond," Castle says, lacing his fingers through hers.

"Seventeen hours in that interrogation room. God."

"You sure? Felt like seventeen days to me."

"I thought he'd never shut up. Never knew that anyone could say that much without saying anything, you know? I was really worried that I'd crack before he did."

"Nah. Everyone cracks before you. You are unbelievably tenacious. In your previous life you must have been a terrier."

 _"_ _You used to be a dog, Mom? Does that mean I might be a puppy?"_

"Thanks. I bet you were a lab. Loyal, shaggy."

 _"_ _Dad was a dog, too?"_

"And drooly?"

"Only when you sleep."

"Or when I see you naked. Speaking of which, I have an idea."

"Castle, I'm sorry, I don't think I have the strength for that just now." She looks exhaustedly at him, but scoots over and rests her head on his shoulder.

Castle gasps theatrically. "Why, Beckett! You hussy! I meant, why don't we take a bath?"

"A phenomenal suggestion. Thank you. That I could do."

He heaves himself off the sofa. "Stay here. I'll go get everything ready."

"Okay," she smiles dozily at him.

"Beckett?"

She's shaking. Oh, someone's shaking her. She jolts upright. "Castle?"

"Sorry, sorry," he says, standing in front of her in nothing but his boxers. "You fell asleep. Our bath is ready if you want to do that, or would you rather just go to bed?"

She stretches and gets to her feet. "Bath, definitely bath." She's taking her clothes off on the way, and by the time she reaches the bathroom she's down to her underwear. At the edge of the tub, she strips that off and stops to inhale the delicious fragrance of freesia. When she steps into the water, she groans. "Perfect, this is perfect. Castle? Where are you?"

Here he comes, carrying a little basket.

"What's all that?"

"Bathtime accessories. Rubber duckies. Since there will be a baby around here pretty soon, I thought I'd get out the ducks. Scoot forward, please." He takes one duck, sets the basket on the floor and gets in the tub. Once he has settled in behind Beckett, he reaches around her and launches the duck so that it's floating near her knees.

"Castle?" She can't quite stifle her snort. "Is that a Gene Simmons KISS celebriduck?"

"Yes. I got it after we were in L.A. looking for Royce's killer. It was a consolation prize when you wouldn't sleep with me."

She turns around and gapes at him. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope."

She's still staring. "Well, better that than getting a rubber doll of me."

"Oh," he says, smiling a little too wickedly for her liking. "But I did get a duck of you."

 _"_ _Mom is a duck? I thought you said she used to be a dog?"_

"What!"

"A duck. Of you."

"A celebriduck of me?"

"These are very staccato questions, Beckett, but yes, I got a custom-made celebriduck of you."

With a certain amount of difficulty, she turns around so that she is facing him. "And how is it that I've never seen this treasured—you do treasure it, I assume—if perverse item?"

"I hid it."

She's narrowing her eyes. "May I ask if you ever, uh, bathed with this duck?"

Another wicked smile. "Oh, you bet I did."

"And is this duck on the premises now?"

"Of course, right in the basket."

She levels him with a look and extends her hand, palm upward. "Gimme. Now."

He meets her gaze and holds it while he drapes his arm over the tub and grabs the duck out of the basket. "Here you go."

She coughs loudly. "Jesus, Castle! It's wearing my bathing suit. The exact same one I wore in the pool out there. Do not show this to the baby."

 _"_ _Why not? Dad! Save that duck for me."_

"This duck is not an it. This duck is a she. I happened to have snapped a photo of you in that suit, so that the celebriduck craftspeople could duplicate it."

She smacks her hand in the water so that it splashes all over his face. "The stuff of wet dreams, huh?"

He chuckles and pulls her right onto his lap. "Very true. But they didn't hold a candle to the real thing."

 _"_ _Mom, does the water feel hotter to you all of a sudden?"_

"I like taking baths with you Castle, with or without a duck."

"What part do you like best?" he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Was that Groucho Marx you just did? It was terrible."

He reaches into the basket again and comes up with a Groucho celebriduck. "How about this, then? Better?"

"I can't believe there are three rubber ducks in here with us."

"You didn't answer my question, Beckett."

"Which question?"

"What part of taking a bath with me do you like best?"

She's working hard to maintain a serious expression. "Let's see. Uh, since we're acting like five-year-olds, I guess I'll say what part I like best is your boy parts."

"You just wriggled, Beckett."

"I did."

"Well, what part I like best is your girl parts."

 _"_ _There are boy parts and girl parts? They're different? Are you ever going to tell me what kind I have?"_

"Castle?"

"What?"

She wriggles again and kisses him. "I want to act like grown-ups now. You know, with grown-up parts."

TBC

 **A/N** I can't say it too often: thank you, thank you for all the reviews, follows and favorites.


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

It's unbearable. It's suffocating. It's so beyond hot that ordinary hot is a wispy memory. Because it's rush hour in a heat wave, Castle couldn't find a cab and has been forced to deal with the subway. He's standing on the platform in a smelting furnace that is officially labeled Times Square, waiting for the train. It's so hot down here that the rats are sitting next to the tracks instead of scurrying alongside them. It's so hot that the toupée of the guy in front of him just slid two inches to the right. It's so hot that Hell is looking like a pleasant alternative. It's so hot that the tar in the street is running faster than the muggers. It's so hot that his brain can come up with only stupid metaphors.

Twenty minutes later, after he has oozed off the train, up the stairs, and dragged himself three blocks home, he is unlocking the front door. Inside it's deliciously cool but suspiciously quiet. "Beckett?" He calls again. "Beckett? Beckett?" He knows she's home; she must be home. He walks to the bedroom and, finding the door closed, turns the knob gently. There, lying there on the bed naked, except for fuzzy socks—her feet are always cold—is a sleeping Beckett. When the door clicks shut, her eyes open.

"Hey," she says, rolling on to her back and propping herself up on her elbows. "How are you?"

"Hot. It's too damn hot," he says, unbuttoning his shirt.

"That's a song. Well, darn instead of damn, but same idea."

"Yeah?" The shirt is off and the shoes and socks are about to follow. "By whom?"

"Cole Porter."

"Too bad. I could have written some really good lyrics right now, but not better than anything by Cole Porter."

"You know, Castle, this is your fault."

"What's my fault? The heat?" The pants are gone and he's down to his underwear.

"No, this," she points to her belly. "This is your fault."

"May I remind you," he says, dropping down next to her, "that it takes two to tango?"

"Yes it does. But may I remind you that you were the one who was so seductive when we were tangoing at that Thanksgiving weekend dance, whispering all sorts of filthy things in my ear as I was draped over your leg."

 _"_ _You were doing the tango? I love that music. Where was I?"_

"Yeah, well let's remember where your thigh was."

"Let's remember where _your_ thigh was. Your thigh in your alluringly tight tango pants."

"You didn't mind my thigh and my alluringly tight pants right after that, in our hotel room. Although as I recall, and I recall vividly, you wanted my thighs out of the pants."

"That's true, but I wasn't the one who forgot to bring protection."

"And I wasn't the one who said, 'No problema, Señor Amor'." He rolls over and kisses her bare knee. "I think you're trying to make a point here?"

 _"_ _Señor Amor? Who's that?"_

"Yes, my point is that if this"—she points at her belly again—"had been planned, I would have planned for a spring delivery, not the end of August, and I wouldn't have had to haul myself through the whole hideous, blistering summer."

"But you know what? You're really—"

She glowers at him. "Don't tell me I'm really glowing, Castle."

"I was going to say you're really beautiful." He looks at her for a moment. "What can I do to help?"

"You can help me cool off."

"That's impossible, Beckett. You're the hottest woman on earth."

He watches as she exhales sharply to blow a lock of hair off her forehead, and he's suddenly back in the bedroom—of course, he really is back in the bedroom—on the morning after their first night together. When he made her stand in the closet because his mother was about to barge in, and after his mother left she threw a pillow at him and blew the hair out of her eyes. Just the way she had a second ago. He jumps up.

"Get dressed, Beckett. I have a great idea."

"Really? I have to get dressed?"

He dashes to the memorable closet. "Yes, here," he says, returning to the bed with a sundress. "Just put that on. Trust me."

"Uh, okay," she says, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

Shortly after, they're in the elevator and on the way to their car. "Where are we going, Castle?"

"You'll see."

 _"_ _Hey, Dad, you know I can't see from in here. Where are we going?"_

They've been in the car for only ten minutes when Beckett squeezes his knee. "Aha! I know where we're headed. It's a long drive. You do know I have to work tomorrow, right? So we'll just spend the night and get up incredibly early?"

"Fine with me. It'll be worth it."

 _"_ _It's a long drive and you're still not saying where? I might have to kick."_

"Ha! The baby just kicked me. Must know where we're going."

 _"_ _NO I DON'T. I give up. Wake me when we get there, please."_

With the a/c cranked up high, they chat aimlessly, listen to music. Eventually Beckett calls one of their favorite restaurants to order dinner, and they pick it up half an hour later, a few minutes before turning into their Hamptons driveway.

"Home Sweet Other Home," Beckett says, as she steps out of the car.

 _"_ _Yay! We're at the beach! I don't know why it had to be a surprise."_

"Want to eat first?"

"No. Let's just put dinner in the fridge and have it later."

They go to their bedroom to change, then walk outside to the pool in terrycloth robes. Castle dips a toe in the water to check the temperature, and when he turns around discovers Beckett has shucked her robe.

"Oh, you forgot your suit." She remembers. Of course she remembers. He loves it.

"I know." She giggles and looks over his shoulder. "Is it safe to go in?"

"Oh yeah. I checked. No dead body in there." He grabs her hand and they jump in to the water. "Isn't this fantastic, Beckett? We can stay in here for hours, it's so cool."

"You were right, great idea. And in this pool, just the two of us floating around? Heaven."

 _"_ _Three, Mom. There are three of us in this pool."_

TBC

 **A/N** Thank you, all you readers, from all over the place!


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Castle wants to drive there. Of course. Beckett refuses to take the car. Of course. It's the basis of their bedtime conversation.

"It's the authentic way to go," she says, resting against the headboard. "We can't drive. Part of the experience and the charm is being in the subway with thousands of other fans. Everybody's noisy going up, and coming back they're even noisier. Unless it's a loss, in which case it's pretty quiet. Only way to go. Besides, it's much faster than driving. And cheaper."

 _"_ _I love going on the subway. It rocks and rolls and zooms and people are eating and drinking. It's like an amusement park ride. You should try it, Dad."_

He drops his book in the space between them. "I'm good for the gas money and the parking. And I beg to differ on your assessment of the charm, particularly the olfactory delights, of the D train."

"I'd expect nothing less, Castle. Feel free to take your car, but I won't be in the seat next to you. I'm going on the subway."

"But you're pregnant. Not just pregnant, but seven months pregnant."

"So?" She fixes him with her best slightly-narrowed-eye stare.

"I'm thinking I shouldn't answer that."

"You're thinking right. And are you also thinking that one of the reasons I shouldn't go is that it will be so crowded that I'll have to stand?"

"Uh, yes."

"Seriously? You don't think I can make someone give his seat up with one of my death glares?"

 _"_ _You have a death glare, Mom? Ooooh, I can't wait to see that. I bet you use it on bad guys when we're in the interrogation room. But don't use it on me."_

"Now that you mention it, no."

"Good. I'm taking the D."

"God, you're stubborn. Is the baby going to be as stubborn as you?"

"I certainly hope so."

 _"_ _Yeah, I hope so."_

"What about your Dad? It's Father's Day, after all; he should arrive in style. As should I, by the way. In a car."

"Where do you think I learned to adhere to hallowed traditions like taking public transportation to Yankee Stadium, and not getting up in the other team's half of the seventh inning because it's bad luck? My father will be riding the rails with me, I guarantee."

 _"_ _Me, too, even though I don't know what riding the rails is. I'm going with Granddad and Mom. I always hang out with Mom. Get it? I hang out with her. It's another joke! I'm getting pretty good at them, right?"_

Castle sighs. A deep, deep dramatic sigh. And then he tosses his book onto the floor, rolls over and gives his wife a deep, deep dramatic kiss. "Night, Beckett."

She leans over, turns out her light, and slides down to lie on her side. And runs her hand around the back of his knee. "Night, Castle."

 _"_ _Are you guys going to sleep now? Can I stay up for a while?"_

When Beckett walks wearily into the kitchen the next morning, Castle is already there. "Your child kept me awake last night. Felt like playing instead of going to sleep. I need my newly sanctioned if strictly enforced one cup of real coffee, please."

 _"_ _Coffee! I love coffee! Dad likes to call it your cup of joe. I don't know why, but it's funny. Maybe you should call me that. Joe. Or Jo. And my middle name could be DiMaggio."_

"Big day today, Beckett," he says, putting their plates of scrambled eggs and toast on the counter.

"Oh, Castle, I'm sorry," she says, hugging him from behind before she sits down. "Happy Father's Day."

"Thanks, but what I really meant was that this is a big day, us going to the Yankees-Dodgers game with your dad."

"I know you're not all that crazy about baseball, Castle, so it's really sweet of you to indulge me on this."

"It means a lot to you two. And hey, what's not to like about baseball? Hot dogs, peanuts, curly fries, soft ice cream in one of those plastic cups shaped like a batting helmet."

 _"_ _Is Mom going to eat that? Because it sounds really great and I would like some."_

She ruffles his hair. "Knew I could count on you to appreciate the fine points of the game."

"I do!"

"Want to tell me what an unassisted triple play is?"

"Sure." He swallows a bite of toast. "Um. It's when someone balances three beers in one hand without spilling?"

She laughs. "Good save, Castle. I'll alert the umpires, tell them to make a note of that in the official rule book."

With her father due in minutes, they put their dishes in the sink and go to their bedroom to get ready. Beckett is wearing her new, oversized Mattingly Yankees T shirt that Castle gave her a few weeks ago because her old one doesn't fit at present. Don Mattingly, who was the first basemen and her favorite player when she was growing up, will be back at Yankee Stadium today as the manager of the Los Angeles Dodgers. She's tying her sneakers when she hears Castle greeting her father.

"Hi, Dad," she says, walking into the living room and giving him a kiss. "Happy Father's Day. You all ready?"

"Yup." He smiles when he sees her shirt. "Mattingly, huh? Donnie Baseball. Some things never change."

"So, Jim, may I offer you a lift to the stadium?" Castle asks hopefully.

His father-in-law looks horrified, as if Castle had just suggested they renounce their citizenship, maybe join a terrorist cell. He clears his throat. "Thanks very much, Rick, but I'm happy taking the subway."

Beckett is chuckling. "Told ya, Castle."

"You don't want to come with us, Rick?"

"Yeah, Rick, you don't want to come with us? You drive up there, you're flouting tradition. Someone might call you a traitor."

 _"_ _A traitor? DAD!"_

Castle raises his hands. "Okay. It's hard enough for me to stand up to one Beckett. But two? I give up. The car stays here."

Not long after, when they're on the subway—seated together, without any need for death glares—Beckett says, "You're a brave man, Castle. Thanks for coming with us."

"I could have held out, you know. I'm the one who has the tickets."

"You have the tickets? I thought Dad had the tickets." She turns to Jim. "You let Castle get the tickets, Dad?" She looks slightly panicked.

"He told me that they were a Father's Day present from you two."

"Uh, no." She whips her head around to Castle. "Should I be worried about this?"

"Why would you be worried? They're great seats."

"That's what I'm worried about. The greatness."

He's taking the cautious-and-practical route. "Can't have you sitting in the bleachers, Beckett. No back support."

"Dad and I usually sit in the grandstand, Castle. Regular seats. Plenty of back support."

Still sticking to practicality and caution. "Yes, but you have to go up all those stairs."

"There are elevators."

"You have an answer for everything?"

 _"Yeah, Mom always has an answer, Dad, you know that."_

"Seriously, Castle, where are we sitting?"

"Guess I'll have to look." She snorts as he reaches into his pocket and produces the tickets. "Ah, here they are, the coveted pasteboards. They appear to be in the first row behind the Yankee dugout."

Jim, who is sitting on the other side of his daughter, leans forward. "That's fantastic. How did you manage to get those?"

Before Castle can open his mouth, Beckett's hand is over it. "He knows a guy, Dad. He always knows a guy."

"Glad to hear it, Rick. I'm looking forward to those seats."

This time Beckett's head pivots sharply to her father. "Dad! I can't believe you're siding with him."

"It's not traitorous to sit there, Katie."

"Yeah, well, watch out for foul balls and broken bats that will come sailing in our direction," she says crankily. She feels Castle chuckling soundlessly against her. "You're loving this, aren't you Castle?"

The train pulls into the station. "Yup," he says, as he stands and offers her his hand. "Most entertaining subway ride I've ever been on. You were right, Beckett."

They're in their luxurious seats just a quarter of an hour later, studying the menus for food that will be delivered to them. "Okay, Castle," Beckett says. "Much as it pains me to admit this, you were right, too. We don't have to stand in line for food and these are absolutely amazing seats. And you know what else? I just realized that I can watch Don Mattingly up close and personal since he's in the visitors' dugout right over there. Be still, my heart."

"I love it when you fangirl, Beckett."

"What? You've never seen me fangirl in my life." She's indignant. "Please."

"Have you forgotten that I was with you when we investigated the murder at the Supernovacon?" He raises both his eyebrows.

"Okay, maybe a tiny bit when I met Captain Max of _Nebula Nine_ there. But that was it."

"And another time."

"Another time?" She sits back, looking incredulous. "Absolutely not."

"When I introduced you to Joe Torre during the Cano Vega case."

She puts her face in her hands. "Are you through now?"

"Yes."

"Are you looking smug?"

"Of course."

She uncovers her face. "I need a lemonade."

"Maybe we could get Don Mattingly to bring you some. I wonder if you'd faint."

 _"Mom, don't faint! I don't want you to faint! If you faint I bet we'd have to leave."_

"Castle!"

 _"_ _Wow, Mom sounds mad. Is she using her death glare, Dad?"_

Castle raises his eyebrows again.

"Please tell me you didn't."

"I didn't, Beckett. There are only so many guys I know."

Jim has been quiet during this exchange, calling on all his considerable self-control not to laugh. "You enjoying the game so far, Rick?"

"Oh, yes. Just like the subway. Never knew it could be this much fun."

"And we're not even at the first pitch," Beckett mutters. "You two. Geez."

"Indulge us, Katie. It's Father's Day." He beams at Castle.

"I'm changing the subject, Dad. So, Castle, you know why my father hates the Dodgers so much?"

"I didn't know you hated the Dodgers, Jim."

"Can't stand them," he says, cheerfully. "My father was a maniacal Brooklyn Dodgers fan. And then after the fifty-seven season they decamped to Los Angeles and he never forgave them. Switched his allegiance overnight from the Dodgers to the Yankees, so I did too. Never mentioned the Dodgers again. Burned our caps in the fireplace over the winter."

"Really? He burned your caps? I think I just got a deeper understanding of your daughter."

"That may be, Castle. But just so you know, nothing will destroy my love for Don Mattingly, not even when he's managing the Dodgers."

By the top of the third inning, Beckett has noticed that her spouse is getting a little antsy. She sees him sneaking his phone out of his pocket. "You bored, Castle? Got someone you have to call?"

"Nope." He's pointing his phone towards centerfield. "Just going to take a few pictures."

"Of what, the Jumbotron?"

"Exactly. Wait for it. Jim? Look at the Jumbotron."

Just then the enormous screen is filled with an eight-word message. "THE NEW YORK YANKEES WELCOME BABY BECKETT- CASTLE."

Castle is ecstatic. "Did you see that? I got at least six shots. The New York Yankees Welcome Baby Beckett-Castle. Can't wait to tell the kid."

 _"_ _I hear you, Dad. The Yankees welcomed me? Me? That is so cool! Are they going to come see me sometime? After I get out of here?"_

"I'm not even going to ask," Beckett says, shaking her head.

"It was only a hundred bucks and it goes to charity," he says, tucking his phone back in his jeans. "Worth every penny."

"You got any more surprises, Rick?" Jim asks.

"Nope, just gonna watch the game. Learn from the masters, Beckett and Beckett." And he really does pay attention, even gets into the game. "I'm beginning to understand the appeal, Beckett," he says during the sixth inning.

"You are, huh?"

"Yes, really. I think I'm starting to love it. In fact, I'm going to show you how much I love it." He turns, takes her face in both his hands and kisses her. Hard. And then he pulls back, smiles, and kisses her again. The crowd around them begins to cheer; Jim is clapping. Castle lets go and points to the Jumbotron again. "Kiss Cam, Beckett!"

"Dad," she hisses. "Did you know about any of this?"

"No," he says, and claps again. "I swear I didn't. Do you think he bribed the Kiss Cam guy?"

"Of course he did," she says, through clenched teeth.

"You know I'm sitting right here, Beckett. You could just ask me." He looks at her. "It could have been much worse, you know."

"How? Fifty thousand people just watched us kissing!"

 _"_ _Fifty thousand plus one, Mom. That's another joke. Get it? Plus One? That's me!"_

He whispers into her ear. "Would have been a lot worse if I'd used tongue."

"Come on, Katie, that was fun. Admit it."

"Are you embarrassed to be seen with me, Beckett? Is that it?"

She swats him gently on the arm. "Okay, good line. I remember." She blushes a little at the memory.

"I really am getting into the game, I promise. But I am going to walk around the stadium a little. You and your Dad can spend the next inning minutely discussing every play."

When he's not back by the middle of the eighth, Beckett is a little worried. "Think I should call him, Dad?"

"He's a big boy, Katie."

"Yeah, emphasis on boy. Oh, wait, I see him. What the hell has he been doing? He has about ten shopping bags."

She knows that it's never a good idea to let Castle, the king of impulse purchases, shop alone. He must have homed in on the large gift shop like a heat-seeking missile. "What did you get?" she asks, not without trepidation.

He is bouncing with excitement. "Wait 'til you see!" He begins opening bags and passing things to her: a slew of onesies, T shirts, socks, booties, "pre walk" sneakers, a cap, and a hoody. Bottles, pacifiers and a bib. A rubber duck and a teddy bear. A plate and bowl. A fuzzy blanket. Crib sheets, a bumper and a mobile. "Who knew they had all this stuff?"

"My God. Wait, you have two more bags. What else could there possibly be?"

"Um, just other stuff. Specialized." He looks nervous. Sounds nervous. "Can wait until we get home. Let me put the stuff back in the bags. Hey what's the score? Did I miss anything? Oh, seven to two Yankees and we're going to the top of the ninth. Excellent. Looks like everyone will be happy and noisy going back on the subway."

Beckett is not easily distracted. "Specialized, Castle? Specialized? What is that?"

"Um, well, the things I showed you are all unisex, you know? But they have a lot of things designed specially for little girls or little boys. So one bag has girl stuff and one bag has boy stuff."

"But, Castle. We're having a boy or a girl. What are we supposed to do with the other stuff?"

"We can save that bag for the next baby."

 _"_ _The next baby? Who's THAT?"_

TBC

 **A/N** Happy Father's Day to all who go by the name Daddy, Dad, Pop, Pops, Pa, Pappy, Old Man, Granddaddy, Gramps, Granddad, Grandpa, or any other variation.


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Do you ever think about hair?"

"What?"

"Hair, Beckett. Do you ever think about it?" Castle is looking unusually contemplative at the moment, sitting in his chair by her desk at the precinct while they wait for Ryan and Esposito to bring in a suspect for questioning.

"I don't set aside part of my day to think about it. But I guess I think about it when I'm washing it, or when it's uncooperative in boiling hot, humid weather like today. Or when I'm getting it cut. Why?"

"Just wondering."

"Oh, no, Castle, you never 'just wonder.' There is an impetus for this." A knowing smile emerges. "Let me guess. You found a gray hair this morning."

 _"_ _Gray hair? Dad, are you getting old?"_

"No, I definitely did not find a gray hair this morning or at any other time."

"Probably true, since I didn't hear you scream. But you look so indignant! Wait, are you afraid that you're starting to go bald?"

"Seriously, bald? Ha, look at this magnificent head of hair and tell me that you see a scintilla of baldness."

She throws her head back and laughs. "Okay, I don't think anyone can have a scintilla of baldness, but I'm glad you're not so concerned that you actually misused a word."

"Just for that," Castle says, getting up from his chair, "I am going to the break room, where I will make myself a superb, highly aromatic cup of coffee. Knowing that you have already had your maximum intake of caffeine today, I will carry my coffee back here and I will drink it torturously slowly while seated just a foot away from you."

 _"_ _Torturously? That doesn't sound good."_

"I will also smack my lips after each sip, and extol the virtues of that particular blend which, as you know, I order personally."

"From your guy."

"From my guy."

True to his word, Castle walks to the break room and comes back a few minutes later with his coffee. "To return to the subject of hair," he says, sitting down.

"Well, since we're waiting for Espo and Ryan, I guess we can pick up this fascinating discussion where we left off, which is that you do not have a scintilla of baldness. Your phrase."

"You're thirty weeks pregnant."

"I'm aware of that, Castle. Hugely aware. But what does that have to do with hair?"

"Did you know that this is a hirsute milestone?"

"Oh, my God," she says, slapping her forehead, "it's big-word morning."

"To continue, Beckett. I read this morning that at thirty weeks, the baby has hair. Don't you love it?"

 _"_ _Hey, I could have told you that, you didn't need to read it somewhere! I found it on the top of my head a couple of days ago. It's fun to have something new to play with in here."_

"The baby could be bald, Castle. Tons of babies are born without hair."

 _"_ _Not me, Mom! Wait 'til you see!"_

"Not a chance. Look at your hair. You have fabulous hair. Your mother had beautiful hair. Your father still has a full head of hair well into his sixties. I have spectacular hair. So does my mother, albeit not the color that nature entirely intended. And my father, though I'd just as soon not bring him up, also has a fine head of hair. No way the baby can be bald. It's in the genes."

 _"_ _I thought that you were talking about hair. Genes? I don't have any genes. I keep telling you that I don't have any clothes."_

"I hope you won't be disappointed if the baby isn't born with perfect hair," she says.

"It will be."

"You know, maybe it's a question of nature versus nurture. Maybe hair is an environmental issue, Castle."

"Then it's no problem. Look around you. Everyone in this precinct has A-list hair. Ryan, Esposito, Gates, Lanie. LT probably does, too, but he keeps it so short you can't tell."

"What about Montgomery? He was bald."

"He's not here anymore, except in spirit, so I don't think he's a factor."

"And Perlmutter. He's definitely on his way to baldness. A real comb-over candidate."

"He doesn't count, since he's not officially in the precinct."

"Then you can't count Lanie, either."

"Okay, I'll give you that. But you know who else in the building has a mop of hair, much as it pains me to acknowledge it? Demming."

"How about your old pal and erstwhile partner, Slaughter? Detective Receding Hairline."

Castle chuckles. "You're right. And he deserves it. Of course, he'll probably die from doing something incredibly stupid way before he loses all his hair. Then there's Karpowski and Sully. Especially her, huge hair. I know they're not at the Twelfth anymore, but you have to admit."

The elevator dings.

"Oh, the boys," says Beckett. "Thank God."

"Check out the perp. Total cue ball."

"Well, regardless of his hair, or lack thereof, we're going to have to speak with him shortly, so I'm going to go over some of the case details now," she says, gathering up some papers. "Okay?"

" 'kay."

Twelve hours later, Beckett and Castle are at home, getting ready for bed. "I knew that guy was guilty," Castle says over a mouthful of toothpaste. "No hair."

"Is that your new assessment of guilt?"

"Nope, just saying."

"All this talk of hair does remind me that something to put on the list of things we'll need is baby shampoo."

"Already bought it."

 _"_ _Baby shampoo? Why do I have to have baby shampoo? I bet it's not as nice as Mom's. I love hers. It smells like you could eat it."_

"Thanks, Castle. You done? Can I turn out the light?"

"Yup."

Beckett turns out the bathroom light, and yawns. "And so to bed."

"Very sexy, hearing you quote Samuel Pepys."

"I can't imagine how quoting Pepys is sexy, Castle."

"You could be right. Might just be that you're wearing nothing but that tiny little tank top."

 _"_ _What about genes? Isn't she she wearing genes? I know I said this once before, but I wish I had a mirror in here. I want to know what color my hair is."_

TBC

 **A/N** This story has passed the 35,000-word mark, so it's getting to the 50,000-word finish line. I am very grateful for all your support and good humor.


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

 **A/N** This is part one of a two-part chapter.

Beckett really, really, really doesn't want to get out of bed, and technically she doesn't have to because she has the day off. She had gotten home so late after a case and she feels as if she has hardly slept. She picks up her phone, looking at it through half an eye, to check the time. How can it be 10 o'clock in the morning? She's really been out cold for nine hours? She doesn't even remember having gotten up to pee during the night. First time that's happened in at least a month. "Good baby," she mumbles, patting her stomach.

 _"_ _Plus One, Mom. I'm sticking with that until you and Dad come up with something better. Which so far you haven't."_

Maybe she can doze for a few more minutes. Castle is in Boston for 24 hours for a mystery fans convention. If he were here, he'd bring her some mint tea. If he were here, he'd draw her a bath and make her breakfast. If he were here—what the hell? A crash from the kitchen shoots her out of bed. She knows that Alexis and Martha are in Chicago for three days; has Castle come back early? No, because he'd have come straight to their bedroom. There's no time to call the doorman, so she tiptoes to the closet, opens the safe and gets her gun. It's terrifyingly quiet in the kitchen now; where did whoever it is go? Despite her racing pulse, she flashes on the second bulletproof vest that Castle had bought her a few months ago. It's here, in the closet. Working quickly and quietly, she pulls it from the pouch and slips it on over her sleep shirt. POLICEMOM.

She opens the door, never so appreciative as she is now of the wildly expensive hardware that eliminate squeaks or creaks, and steals into the office. From here she'll be able to get a good look into the open-plan part of the loft, and still be able to stay more or less out of sight. Holding the gun in her right hand and cradling her arm with her left, she peeks out. What the hell? "Meredith?"

Yes, there she is, the (first) ex-wife, the red-headed menace. She's dressed to the teeth and, in a startling display of domesticity, is setting the table. For eight. "Oh, hello, Kate," she says with what might be an authentic smile. Or not. Fifty-fifty. No, more like forty-sixty. "Why on earth are you holding a gun?" Make that thirty-seventy.

Beckett looks down at her weapon, and drops her arms to her side. "Uh, because I'm alone here?"

 _"_ _Excuse me, Mom! You're not alone. What about me?"_

"You scared me half to death, Meredith. I thought you were an intruder."

Another smile, this one definitely not the genuine article. "I used to live here, you know, so I'd hardly think of me as an intruder."

If it weren't for the fact that Beckett didn't want to leave her unborn child fatherless, she'd kill Castle. Were it not for their spectacular sex life, she'd at least shoot him in the balls. She takes a calming breath and asks brightly, "Does Castle know that you're here?"

"Oh, no, I wanted this to be a surprise and you know that Richard can't keep his mouth shut. Gina told me he'd be out of town today, so we put our heads together and decided that this would be the perfect day. And we both still have keys, so there was no problem getting in without your knowing."

Beckett wonders if her eyes look as wild as they feel. "Gina?"

"Yes. My co-hostess."

"Surprise?" she asks feebly.

Meredith, having finished setting the table, steps over to the kitchen counter and returns with a large, elaborate centerpiece of green orchids. "This is just the beginning of the surprise, Kate!" She looks her over from bed head to bare feet, and though she doesn't mention the POLICEMOM vest, her horror is evident. "Why don't you go get dressed, dear," she suggests, waving her hand dismissively. "The caterers and Gina will be here any minute and all the brunch guests right after that."

 _"_ _Who's Meredith, Mom? She must be really nice if she's making us brunch. Did you know it's my favorite meal?"_

"Oh. Brunch. Right. I'll go put, uh, something else on. Back in a minute. A few minutes." She turns and tries to walk rather than stagger back to the bedroom, where she tears off the vest and her shirt and locks her gun in the safe. Ducking into the bathroom, she shuts the door and phones Castle. Shit, it goes straight to voicemail. "Call me now, Castle. Immediately. This is a crisis." Grateful that she had taken a shower at bedtime, she washes her face and brushes her teeth while thinking about what to wear. She brushes her hair, puts on some light makeup and checks her cell; four minutes, and he still hasn't phoned. She tries him again. "Castle, I'm not kidding. This is an emergency. I don't care what you're doing, call me."

Back in the bedroom closet, she picks out a pair of silk pants, a beautifully draped top and a pair of sandals. She'd love to wear killer heels if she's going to face off with Meredith and Gina, but she can't. She's too wobbly at the moment. She hears voices in the kitchen, so the caterers must be here. Or maybe the yet-to-be-revealed guests. Five of them. There's still no call from Castle, ten minutes on. She sends a text: "This is life or death. Seriously. Your death." Tucking the phone in her pocket, she murmurs, "God, help me," and heads into the unknown.

When she gets to the living room, she hears a smattering of applause. Oh, this is so, so much worse than she had thought. The cold hand of reality check is the only thing that keeps her from fleeing. It's them. Seven women who had, or wished they had had, Richard Castle before she did. There are the twin sharks, Meredith and Gina. There are Ellie Monroe, that little slut who had sex with Castle so that he'd recommend her for the movie version of _Heat Wave_ , and Natalie Rhodes, who actually did get the part and had shadowed Beckett for her research. She had wanted to sleep with Castle, but he had turned her down. A star in his crown, Beckett admits. Natalie has on the wig that was modeled on Beckett's hair, and is dressed in maternity clothes, complete with a fake baby bump. And then there's Jacinda, whose last name she doesn't even know. The trampy flight attendant whom Castle had thrown in her face and had even let drive his Ferrari. She has on a uniform; what kind of an airline allows a skirt that short? Hookers Aloft? You can nearly see her hoo-hah, for God's sake. And right next to her? Kristina Coterra, the skanky interviewer from WHNY TV who had shoved her boobs in Castle's face and is wearing exactly what she had then, a bikini. Really, a bikini to brunch? Although, Beckett thinks—as much as she is capable of thought in these circumstances—the sartorial choice is insignificant in the general scheme of things here. Where is number seven? Aha, there she is, smiling as she pops out from behind Meredith. It's Kyra Blaine, Castle's first true love, officially known as the One Who Got Away. In a wedding dress. Maybe the bikini wasn't such a weird sartorial choice after all.

"Surprise!" they shout, as one.

Beckett, who wonders if she has been shot in the neck by some kind of poison dart that freezes the central nervous system, stands motionless and mute. "I need a drink," she says.

 _"_ _Mom, you can't have a drink while I'm in here. I'm not old enough to drink."_

"Now, Kate," Gina says in a voice that could etch titanium. "We know you can't join us for Champagne, despite this festive occasion, but we have a nice glass of iced green tea for you. With a wedge of lime."

 _"_ _Ugh, boring. Could you ask her for a milkshake? That's good for brunch."_

"Why don't you come sit down, Detective," Natalie Rhodes says. "You must be so uncomfortable standing. I know I am and my belly is just made of foam rubber." She guffaws as she pokes her ersatz outie bellybutton. "You're the guest of honor, so you have to sit at the head of the table," she says, grabbing Beckett by the elbow and propelling her to her seat.

"You'll have to forgive us for rushing you," Kristina says, "but we're all very, very busy women."

"We hope you'll like the menu," Jacinda says. "We're starting with spinach salad."

"Oh." That's all that Beckett can rise to at the moment.

"And then we're having omelets—green eggs with ham."

 _"_ Green Eggs and Ham _is my favorite book! Dad reads it to me all the time. This will be like eating the story, Mom!"_

"How do you like our theme, Kate?" Kyra asks, tossing her bridal veil over one shoulder. "It's called Green with Envy! Not us, you. You were green with envy over all of us. We know you were, even if you aren't now. We saw you! It's like our very own little trip down memory lane."

The only green that Beckett is feeling is around the gills. "Please excuse me for just a moment," she says, pushing her chair away from the table. "I just remembered that I have an urgent, urgent text to send. I'll be right back."

She goes to the bedroom, shuts the door and takes out her phone to call Castle. Still voicemail. "Castle? You have to come home this minute. Your septet of significant others is here, in our loft. The seven sisters of ex. Everyone from Kira to that Kristina person. Making me eat brunch. It is a chamber of horrors. I mean it, it's a fucking nightmare."

Part 2 tomorrow….


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

She can't stay in here forever, but why hasn't he called? Surely by now he has seen that she has been trying to reach him; her desperation is obvious. She closes her eyes for a minute in the hope of blocking out the Hell that is burning on the other side of the door.

Her arm shoots out for her cell when she hears Castle's ringtone.

"Hi, Beckett."

There's not even a note of concern in his voice. She covers her eyes with her forearm. Why does he sound he so upbeat? She left him panicky messages, she all but threatened his life, and he's Mister Goodcheer.

"Where the hell are you, Castle?"

"Did I wake you up, Beckett? I'm in Boston."

"Basking in the adoration of your New England fans, I'm sure. I can't believe that you didn't call me before this after the texts and voicemails I left you."

"What's wrong? You sound really mad, but I promise, I promise that I didn't hear a word from you."

"Yeah, well let me just check my phone and I'll tell you exactly how often I've called you since the three Witches Of Macbeth and their sidekicks showed up. Hold on." She scrolls through her records. That can't be. She checks again. "Castle, there's nothing there. I don't get it. I swear I tried you at least four times in less than hour, and now—What the hell!"

"Beckett, Beckett, Beckett," he says, trying to sound calm and soothing. She's knocked him for a bit of a loop, but he needs to get her to tell him exactly what's going on.

"It's eight o'clock, Castle. All I'm wearing is a T shirt but I was all dressed up before."

"You were dressed up before? When was that?"

"At ten. After Meredith got here I changed, but it's not ten yet?"

"Not yet. Listen, I'm almost positive that I woke you up. I think you must have been having a dream." He pauses for a moment, considering what to say next. Maybe if he lightens things up a bit. "You said Meredith was there? That was definitely a nightmare? And other people? Do you want to check to see if they're there?" He hears rustling. It sounds as though she's getting out of bed. He starts counting seconds until she's back on the phone.

"There's no one. And the table isn't set. It was set before, for brunch. Green plates, green napkins, green orchids. Oh, and green food. But it's all gone. Everything is normal. Except me."

"One of the many reasons that I love you is that you're not normal, Beckett. Do you want me to come home? I can, I'll get the next flight if you're still upset, and be there in a couple of hours. When it really is ten."

 _"Mom, there's no brunch? That Meredith lady isn't there? Does that mean you don't have to drink iced green tea with lime? Could we please have a milkshake?"_

"Thanks, I'm okay. It was just so real. Totally weird, but real."

"You want to tell me about it? Because I'm dying to hear. For one thing, I want to know who the witches were. Besides Meredith."

 _"There were witches here? Meredith is a witch? I thought witches were only at Hallowe'en. Dad told me all about Hallowe'en. He says we get to wear costumes, but I don't know what they are. Are they like genes?"_

"I'm going through this in my mind, Castle, and I have to say that hideous as the experience was—and I will spare you no details—I'm excited to know that my imagination is that good."

"See? I knew I wasn't the only storyteller in the family. Start at the beginning. Meredith was there and you changed clothes?"

"I actually changed clothes twice, Castle. The first time was when I woke up, I mean woke up in my dream and heard a terrible crash and I thought there was a burglar since I was the only one here."

 _"_ _Mom, Mom, remember? I was here, too. Geez."_

"You didn't want to call the doorman?"

"I didn't say it made sense, it was a dream. In the dream I thought there wasn't time to call him. Anyway, I remembered the POLICEMOM vest and went to the closet and got it and my gun."

"I knew you'd be glad I got you that vest, Beckett. So then what?"

She wishes that she could see his face because his excitement is palpable even over the phone. "I sneaked into the office so that I could look out into the rest of the loft, with my gun drawn. And then I saw Meredith, setting the table."

"She never set the table in her life, Beckett. That should have been the tip off that you were dreaming."

"Yeah, if I had found her there, unannounced, in real life, I'd probably have shot her."

 _"_ _Tell Dad about the green eggs and ham, he'll like that part."_

And she does tell him that part, and everything else. By the end of her recitation, both she and Castle are howling.

"You know, Beckett, I have to say, I've never had a dream about Will Sorenson or Tom Demming or Josh Davidson or any of your other dalliances."

"Dalliances? Is this 1855? Beside, you have to admit my taste in exes is less colorful than yours."

"By colorful you mean trashy?"

"You said it."

"I really liked that Natalie Rhodes was dressed up as if she were pregnant. Nice touch, Beckett. Very method."

There's a silence that goes on a little too long to be comfortable. "Um, Castle? Do you think it's pathetic that I had this dream? What does it say about me, anyway?"

"Nope, not pathetic. Just, you know, we're both stupidly still a little lacking in self-confidence about who the other one was with, or circling, before we ended up together."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Castle? It's almost convention time. Go meet your fans. And come home and tell me all about it, unless you signed some chests, in which case I'll have to get the gun out of the closet."

"No chests in years, Beckett. Only yours."

"I know. And don't forget our class tonight."

 _"_ _Class? Are we going to school? I thought babies didn't have to go to school? I heard Alexis talking about homework. I don't think I'd like it."_

"Not a chance I'd forget it. Are you going back to sleep now?"

"Not a chance. I might have another dream and shoot Jacinda." Instead, she putters around and reads and eats lunch with nothing green it and takes a walk. And then Castle is back and they're off to class.

"So, this is a first for you, too, Castle," she says as they ride uptown.

 _"Didn't you guys go to school already? I dunno, you get me all mixed up sometimes."_

"Meredith wouldn't have set foot in this class."

 _"She's back? Oh, boy. I have to take a nap."_

The cab pulls up to the hospital entrance, and they get out. They cross the lobby to the elevator bank, and go to the seventh floor. "Could you tell us where room seven eighteen is, please?" Beckett asks the woman on duty at the desk. "We're here for the natural childbirth class."

"Go down this corridor and take the first left. It'll be the fourth door on your right."

"Thank you," Castle says, taking Beckett's hand. And they walk down the hall, take the first left and bump straight into a doctor.

"Davidson?" Castle squeaks.

"Josh?" Beckett says. "What a surprise."

"What a nightmare," Castle says, but only in his head. He just grips Beckett's hand a little harder, and smiles.

 **A/N** I wanted to play with that hoary convention of TV, the dream sequence, so I did. I had fun, and I hope that you did, too. And that's it! No more dreaming in this story.


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Kate!" Josh Davidson looks pleased—until surprised replaces pleased, and pleased is obliterated by pissed off. "Castle," he says, acknowledging his ex-girlfriend's partner in a tone with the steely edge of a scalpel.

Castle cuts in. "That's right, she's Kate Castle now." He's betting that Beckett will give him quick jab in the ribs for that, and she does. It was worth it.

Davidson looks nonplussed. "What?"

"We're married. So she's Kate Beckett Castle." This time he gets a hard pinch on his arm. Still worth it.

The doctor refuses to look at the writer. "What brings you here, Kate?"

"We're going to our first natural childbirth class," she says, smiling widely.

"We're pregnant," Castle adds, unnecessarily. "Surprised to see you here, Davidson."

"Why? I'm on staff."

"Yeah, but this is the maternity floor. Aren't you a proctologist?"

"I see you're still an asshole, Castle."

"Well, I guess you'd know, given that you specialize in that part of the human anatomy."

"I'm a cardiac surgeon, for Christ's sake."

"My mistake. Didn't realize you'd moved up." He wonders why Beckett hasn't inflicted significant bodily harm on him. If she put him in traction for three months, it would still be worth it. Davidson was such an easy mark.

"Excuse me," she says. "But I have to get out of this hallway before I succumb to the testosterone fumes."

 _"_ _I don't want to whatever to the whatever fumes, either. Those are big words, Mom. They sound kind of scary."_

She looks pointedly at Castle and grabs his elbow. "And I don't want to subject the baby to them, either. Let's go."

 _"_ _Thanks, Mom. You're my hero!"_

"I guess you got what you deserved then, Kate," the seething Davidson says.

Already halfway to Room 718, she stops and pivots. "Thank you. Yes, I did," she says, sunnily. "And do did he. We're a perfect match." And she turns her back on him and walks down the hall, towing a gaping Castle. She's silent until they're both inside the room. "I'm giving you a free pass this time," she mutters. "But only because he's such a jerk."

"And because you liked my proctology joke."

"That, too."

They walk into a large open area, ringed with chairs; four other couples are already there, along with a woman who is presumably the instructor, and Alexis, who trots over to Becket and Castle.

"Hi, Dad. Hi, Kate," she says as she gives them both a hug.

"Thanks for coming," her father says. "I'm positive that I won't be more than a block away when Kate goes into labor, but it's great that you're willing to be my stand-in, just in case."

"She'll need to be your stand-in if you pass out in the delivery room, Castle."

"Me? Ridiculous. Never gonna happen."

"Dad, you almost fainted every time I had to get a shot. Don't you think it's possible that witnessing childbirth might be your undoing?"

"No. So you won't need to be there."

"It'll be good practice for me, Dad. I'll probably be in Kate's position before you know it."

"Oh, God," he covers his eyes. "Please, just stop right there. Don't say another word."

Within minutes, everyone has arrived: a total of eight pregnant women and their spouses/significant others, and Alexis. The instructor, Rebecca Bernstein, introduces herself and has everyone else in the room do the same. Beckett and Castle are the sixth couple with whom she speaks.

"So, Kate, have you been doing anything special to prepare for childbirth?"

"I've always been very active, and though I've had to cut back, I still walk everywhere and still do yoga forty-five minutes a day, which I hope will be helpful."

"That's great. And you're right, it will be. What about you, Rick? What made you want to join Kate for this class?"

"I want to support her, of course. But also, I didn't get to experience this when my daughter, Alexis, was born because my first wife wanted nothing to do with natural childbirth. She'd have liked Alexis to spring full-grown from her head, like Athena from Zeus. Except that unlike Zeus she wouldn't have let anyone split her head open with an axe to let her daughter out. So this time I'm determined to be there."

 _"_ _Mom! You don't want an axe in your head, right! Please say you don't want an axe in your head."_

Everyone laughs and Rebecca asks, "Have you done anything special to prepare, Rick?"

"Thirty-seven books," Alexis says.

"Not to mention nineteen DVDs," Beckett adds. " _Belly Laughs_ , _Bump It Up_ , _Birth Partner_ ,"—she's ticking them off on her fingers—" _Beyond Ava and Aiden_ , _Baby Catcher_ , and _The Belly Book_. And those are only the Bs."

 _"_ _He's read me_ Beyond Ava and Aiden _about a thousand times. I thought it would help, but here I am, still Plus One."_

"Yeah, and not one of the DVDs that my dad bought has footage of an actual birth."

"That's not a problem, Alexis," Rebecca says, "but I'm glad you brought it up, because one of the things we're going to do today is to watch a video of a baby being born, at this hospital. A lot of you probably expected to see that in our final class, but I've always found it very helpful to experience it at the beginning, before we cover everything else, such as exercises and breathing. So, if one of you could just dim the lights with that switch next to the door, we can start."

 _"Wow, there's going to be a movie? I hope Dad tells me about it afterwards. He always like to talk about his favorite parts. I like it when he does the funny noises, too."_

The room is very quiet as the video proceeds; whatever the camera doesn't show, the voiceover explains, such as how the baby's head temporarily changes shape during the second stage of labor, the skull still soft to accommodate being squeezed in the birth canal.

 _"_ _Where is my head going? Mom! Is this true? And it gets squished! How come no one ever told me about this part? Does Dad know about this?"_

Beckett can't see Castle properly in the darkened room, but as the video progresses she thinks that he's looking a little pale. When they see the baby's head crowning, she's sure of it.

 _"_ _Did Dad just say 'Ewwwwww'?"_

Alexis squeezes Castle's hand and whispers, "Are you going to faint, Dad?"

"No," he whispers in return. "Yes. No. It's a possibility. Wait. I'll just look at Beckett. You keep watching, take notes for me, please."

He turns his head away from the screen towards Beckett, who's mesmerized by the video. "Beckett?"

"What?"

"Are you all right?"

"Of course. Aren't you?"

"Well, uh."

She tweaks his ear and, in the lowest possible voice, says, "Sometimes you're a big baby, you know that?"

 _"_ _Hey! I thought I was the baby."_

 **A/N** Thanks to everyone who is tracking the progress of Plus One! I'm very grateful for all of you.


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Holding a pad of paper and a pen, Beckett is stretched out on the sofa, her back resting on its cushioned arm and her feet resting on her husband's lap.

"Who do you think is the best shot in the precinct, Castle?"

He looks up from his book. "Just the Twelfth, or by extension all the people we work with?"

"Well, I guess all of them."

"Perlmutter."

"What!" She wiggles her toes into his thigh. "You must be kidding."

"I hate to say it, but the guy's a fantastic shot. Incredibly quick. Better than me, sometimes. Never forget when we walked into the morgue and he looked up from the body and said, 'Ah, Detective Beckett. And Defective Castle.' It pissed me off, mostly because it was so good."

"I meant who's the best shot with firearms, Castle, not with zingers."

"Okay, best with a gun? No question: Esposito, because of his military background. Followed closely by you. Why the sudden interest in marksmanship, anyway?"

"I was just thinking about the precinct summer picnic. It's always fun and we play all those dopey games that we both love, but I was wondering if we could add something this year."

"What, like a shooting contest?"

"Exactly."

"Could we have Perlmutter's face on the target?"

"You do know he'll be there, right?"

"I do. I always love seeing him in his shorts with his skinny little legs and knobby knees."

"Seriously, Castle, what do you think? There's that little storage building at the field that we could use for the range."

"What do I think?" He starts to tickle her feet. "I think I can't wait to see you, Annie Oakley. In your fringed buckskin vest and short skirt and cowgirl hat."

 _"_ _Dad, that's not Mom's name. People call her Beckett or Kate or Katherine or Katie, and I call her Mom. So she has a lot of names, but not Annie Oakley."_

"Hold on to that little fantasy, bud. I'm not wearing fringed anything."

"How about those—"

"Shut up."

 _"_ _It's not nice to tell people to shut up, Mom."_

"Really, I love the idea. And if we can get enough beers into Esposito, you'll definitely kick his butt."

"I'm gonna ask the Captain in the morning. She should like it. She's a pretty amazing shot herself."

When Beckett had broached the subject to Gates, she had gotten an immediate go-ahead. Now, five days later, she and Castle are on their way to the picnic.

"We lucked out on the weather. Remember last year? It was about a hundred degrees with matching humidity. Too hot to do anything, really."

"I know what you like best, Castle," Beckett says, running her hand across his knee. "That limitless supply of food."

 _"_ _There's a limitless supply of food? Mom, can you drive faster?"_

"Actually what I like best are the minute-to-win-it games. I am so taking down LT this year in card ninja. And you are winning the shootout. Can't believe you wouldn't at least wear a cowgirl hat."

"Got a little surprise for you. Look in the top of my bag."

He reaches behind him for her purse and drops it onto his lap. "Why, Beckett. What have we here?" he asks, waving a large red-black-and-white cotton square. "A bandana?"

"Yup. I'm going to wear it at the shooting range. As the competition heats up," her voice takes a sultry turn, "a bead of sweat will travel slowly down my temple, trickle across my cheek, make its way down my neck, and finally ooze into the bandana, which will soak it up."

"Feels like it's heating up in here already. Might need to turn on the AC."

"Nope, here's the exit. We'll be there in a minute."

They pull into the parking area, and pop the trunk. Inside are five enormous ice chests packed with their contribution: ten cases of beer. LT appears with two hand carts; he and Castle load them up and haul them to the tables that are set up ten yards from the grills. It's already noisy, even though the sound system isn't on yet: there is considerable if good-natured argument about the playlist.

Two hours later, the picnic is in high gear and it's down to two people in card ninja. Half a watermelon is propped up on a stand; each finalist is toeing the line and holding a deck of cards. "Last year's champion, Officer Tolliver, goes first," Gates announces. "You ready?" LT nods. "Go!" The verging-on-raucous crowd counts down loudly, beginning with 60, while LT flicks a succession of cards at the melon; none hits the mark. "Time's up!" Gates says. "You're next, Mister Castle."

A new countdown begins, and Castle starts throwing cards. Just as the group yells "three," the king of hearts hits the melon at a perfect angle, and sticks, one corner buried deep in the fruit. Castle executes a few fist pumps, shakes the glum-faced LT's hand, and asks, "Who's got a flag?" Someone's kid passes him a small one on a stick and he waves it madly as he runs around the melon crying, "Victory lap!" Beckett rolls her eyes. More than once.

"Ryan," Esposito whispers conspiratorially to his partner, holding a burger in one hand and licking ketchup off the other as they watch Castle take a bow. "Come here." They walk over to a couple of chairs in the shade and sit down. "Listen, Lanie told me that Beckett and Castle are going to natural childbirth classes."

"So? Jenny and I did, too."

"Big difference. Think about it. Castle? In a delivery room? He'll never make it. The man screams when he sees a spider."

"You saying what I think you're saying? That we should put some money on it?"

"Yeah, just what I'm saying. You in?"

"Sure. So, what do we got? How long he lasts, if he pukes into a wastebasket, passes out?"

"Yeah, everything. Everyone's here, so spread the word."

Ryan puts his hand up, grinning like a madman. "Javi, wait. I got an idea for a third pool. Ready? Where Beckett will be when her water breaks, and when."

"Genius, bro," Espo says, giving him a fist bump. "We're on. Get that cash rolling in."

They trot off in opposite directions and begin quietly canvassing their colleagues. By the time they've done the circuit, each one has hundreds of dollars stuffed in his pocket, along with a wad of IOUs. They meet by Ryan's car, and Espo hands over his loot. "Take this and lock it up. I gotta get to the range."

"Yeah, good luck, man. Be there in a minute."

"Luck's got nothin' to do with it."

Luck may or may not have anything to do with it, but forty minutes later, he and Beckett are the last cops standing, ready to face off. Everyone else has been outshot. Before the final round begins, Castle sidles up to Ryan. "I'm in."

"In what, Castle?"

"The pool."

"Don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, please. I may not have a badge, but I saw you and Espo working the crowd, saw those twenties going from hand to hand. Plus I have ears like a bat. You've got a pool going on about Beckett's water breaking."

Ryan coughs as he tries to stifle both a sigh of relief and a boyish giggle. "Yeah, well, you're right, Castle. You got me. So, ready to place your bet?"

"Five hundred," he says, slipping five bills into Ryan's unsteady hand. "Four twenty-seven in the morning. In the bathroom. She finds out I did this, I'll kill you. Better yet, she'll kill you." He smiles, slaps Ryan on the shoulder and walks away. "Gotta go cheer for Beckett now."

The paper targets are up. Beckett will be firing at a large, graphic photo of a New York City rat; Esposito will be aiming at an equally vile photo of a New York City cockroach. Gates steps up and declares the start of the championship round. "One detective to my right, one to my left. At my signal, begin firing."

They come to a noisy finish simultaneously. Patrick McCann, who runs the precinct range and is serving as the official scorer, examines the pellet-scarred targets carefully. "The scores are identical," he says, "so we'll have to go to the tie-breaker rule." He looks at the targets again, even more closely. "Both shooters took out the vermins' beady little eyes." Wild cheers. "But Detective Beckett got a shot straight through the rat's tooth. We have a winner!"

 _"Yay, Mom, you won! It feels like everybody's hugging you. Do you get a crown? Are you the queen?"_

Castle pops open a can of ginger ale and hands it to Beckett. "Closest thing to Champagne I can give you. Congratulations. And you are the undisputed champ not just because you knocked out a rodent tooth, but because Esposito is sober. He's been guzzling nothing but soda."

"Thank you. He was very gracious in defeat, I must say. Offered to buy me a drink after the baby is born."

 _"What about me? Don't I get anything after I'm born? Besides clothes. I'm still waiting for clothes."_

The picnic is winding down. All that remains is the final game, the three-legged race. For the first time, Beckett and Castle have teamed up. He had been pleading for at-home practice sessions for the last two weeks; she had declined. "We'll just take our chances," she had said repeatedly. Now that she's at the starting line, she wishes that she had agreed.

"You were right, Castle," she says, as he ties her right leg to his left. "We should have done some trial runs. I hadn't thought about my balance. My center of gravity is different."

"We've already got bragging rights on shooting and card ninja. If we don't win this, it's okay."

Beckett is taken aback. "Really? You don't mind? Hard to believe."

"Nope. We're tied to each other, in public. I have my arm around you, in public. When we cross the finish line I get to kiss you, in public. Can't ask for more than that."

They shuffle across the field, laughing, and end up in sixth place. Castle does indeed kiss Beckett, and she kisses him right back.

"Best three-legged race ever, Beckett."

 _"_ _Dad, what? That was a five-legged race. Don't forget about me."_

 **A/N** This story has crossed the 40,000-word mark, so it's four-fifths of the way to the Ficathon finish line. Thank you all!


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Where on earth is Beckett? Castle's sure that she's here. If she were going out, she'd have texted him, and, she knew that he was bringing home one of her favorite dinners. Still, she's nowhere. He's called, he's looked, and he's getting nervous. And then he hears a thunk. From upstairs. He'd checked there. Did somebody manage to get into the loft? He quickly toes off his shoes and goes to the bottom of the stairs, heart pounding, but stops when he hears something else.

"Shit."

Ah, that's more like it. That one syllable is definitely Beckett. He smiles as he runs up the stairs. Her voice seemed to have come from the baby's room, so that's where he's heading. Aha! The closet door, which had been closed, is open now and he can see her standing just inside.

"Beckett? What are you doing?"

She doesn't move.

Oh, she's listening to music. When he calls her name loudly she looks up and smiles. Grasping a lamp in one hand, she pops her earbuds out with the other. "Hi, Castle."

"Hi. What are you doing?"

"I dropped this Yankee lamp you got at the game last month and I thought that I'd broken it, but it's fine," she says, holding it up triumphantly, as if she were expecting him to inspect it.

"Okay, good. But I meant what are you doing up here in the closet?"

"Nesting."

"Resting?"

 _"_ _She's not resting, Dad. I don't know what she's doing, but she's bouncing around all over the place and banging drawers and stuff."_

"No, nesting. You must have read about it in one of the books that you've ingested over the last few months. The urge, sometimes even compulsion, that takes over a lot of pregnant women. Makes them want to build a nest, or tidy up the nest, before the baby bird hatches."

 _"_ _Are we getting a baby bird for a pet? What kind of bird?"_

"And clearly this has happened to you."

"Yup, earlier today. It just sort of came over me. I'm not using anything that's been mauled in the store or dropped on the floor without cleaning it first. So I took everything that we'll need in the first three months, the onesies and undershirts and socks and caps and bibs and blankets and sheets, and ran it all through the washer and drier. And then I hung a few things in here and folded up everything else and put it in the drawers." She pulls open several and sweeps her hand over them. "See?"

He's impressed by all the perfect little piles, organized not just by category but by color, pattern and size. "Wow, Beckett, have you ever considered a career in retail? This is amazing."

 _"_ _Are all those things you're talking about for the baby bird or for me?"_

"I think I'm pretty much done in here, Castle, but we have to get the furniture. The room is empty. We really have to go buy furniture now."

"Uh, it's pretty late." He doesn't want to seem unenthusiastic or unsupportive, but is she nuts? Not nuts, nesting. A squirrel's nest, full of nuts. He has to get control of himself. He rubs his eyes. "Seven-thirty, and dinner's ready in the kitchen. Time to eat. Could this wait until tomorrow? You're off tomorrow, right?"

"I bet the stores are still open, but okay." She sighs. "I guess so."

He gives her a hug. "I think it'll be better tomorrow. We won't be rushed. Or anything. Let's go eat now."

 _"_ _Right, Dad! Let's go eat now."_

They do eat, right then. Beckett is, no surprise, so tired by the end of the meal that she falls asleep holding a fork that's speared her last bite of blueberry pie. Castle scoops her up and carries her to bed.

The next morning, before she has even burned her tongue on her one-mug-a-day coffee, Beckett is checking her phone for the opening times of the two baby furniture stores they've chosen. "Damn. We have to wait until ten, for both of them."

"You know," Castle says from his perch next to her, "this is a strange new experience for me because I'm the shopper, not you. You hate shopping, except for clothes. And your shoes, especially your shoes, Imelda."

She turns and gives him The Look. "Imelda Marcos had one thousand sixty pairs of shoes. You can't possibly mention me in the same breath."

He's chuckling. "I can't help but note both the precision of the number you cited and the fact that it spilled right out of your mouth. Facts at your fingertips, hmm?"

She slides off the stool and goes to the fridge. "Pfff. Just for that, I'm getting some yogurt just for me, not you. You'll have to fend for yourself."

"Okay. Just to let you know that I'll be ready at nine-thirty so we can be the first customers in the store."

And they are. They're waiting at the door when a salesperson unlocks it and welcomes them in. Castle is a cruiser: he likes to check out every model of everything, including things he has no real interest in or any intention of buying. Beckett, on the other hand, is like a perfectly calibrated missile: she knows exactly what she wants and zeroes in on it. In a quarter of an hour she has chosen all four things on their list—changing table, chest of drawers, bassinet and crib—while he's still checking out the gizmos on each stroller in the place. They already have a stroller.

Beckett walks over and taps him on the shoulder. "Castle? I hate to drag you away from Stroller Nirvana, but I'm all set. Come and see what I chose. If you don't like it we'll look at some other things, but I love what I found."

He's flabbergasted. "Really? How could you all set?"

"Because I read up on everything available before we came, that's how. C'mon."

"I did, too, but, you know." With a last look over his shoulder at an $1,800 twin stroller—"Castle, I'm carrying one kid in here, not two"—he follows his wife to the array of changing tables. Twenty minutes later, he has signed off on all her choices.

"Beckett, you have incredible taste in baby furniture, as in everything else, including me," he says, looking into the beautiful bassinet that they're about to buy. "You know, this is so small. It's hard to believe how tiny the baby is going to be at first, sleeping in this."

"Kind of makes it more real for me, that's for sure," she says, patting her belly and smiling.

 _"_ _Small? I have to sleep in something small? Why can't I stay in your big bed with you?"_

Once they've paid and made arrangements for the store to deliver and set up the furniture, Castle takes Beckett's hand. "Riverside Park is just two blocks away and it's still cool out. Want to take a little walk along the river?"

"Absolutely."

They've gone only a few hundred yards along the water when they come to a cafe. "Aha," Beckett says. "I sense an ulterior motive in your choice of promenade."

"You have to admit that the view is great. Besides, all I ate at home was yogurt and shopping gave me an appetite. Plus they have unbelievable blueberry pancakes here. With real maple syrup, not that horrible imitation stuff."

"Okay you talked me into it," she says, as they settle in at their table overlooking the boat basin.

 _"_ _Thanks, Dad. I was worried that all she was going to have was some melon."_

"Do you feel like you're still nesting, or are you done?" Castle asks when they've finished eating.

"I think I'm done. Feels great, though, getting the nest ready."

"So, the baby bird, eh? What are we going to call it, Robin? Jay? Raven? Lark? Phoenix?"

 _"_ _Oh, man. I bet that bird gets a name before I do."_


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"I'm going completely insane," Castle says as he leans against the kitchen island, his voice three parts self-pity and one part desperation.

Beckett peers at him over the rim of her mug. "I doubt it."

Castle feels a little jolt. "I'm serious. I'm about to lose my mind."

"How long has this been going on, anyway?"

"Started an hour ago, before you woke up." He twitches.

"Hmm," she puts down her mug. "What have you tried so far?"

"Holding my breath. Drinking water from the wrong side of the glass, which resulted in nothing but a wet shirt." Another jolt.

"Oh my God, Castle! A huge mouse just ran under the fridge, right behind you."

He doesn't flinch, which seems impossible, given his musophobia. "That tiny thing you do with your lip gave you away, Beckett. I knew you were about to tell me a fib."

"I was just trying to scare you. It's supposed to be a sure-fire cure for hiccups."

 _"_ _What are hiccups? Is Dad sick? Why does he need a cure for hiccups?"_

Castle's head and shoulders jerk. "I bet you can die from hiccups."

 _"_ _What! Dad is going to die?"_

While Castle is not the King of Hypochondria, or even the Crown Prince, he is at the very least an earl—probably a duke—so Beckett is exercising restraint. "You cannot die of hiccups, Castle," she says, as patiently as she can. "Especially not after an hour. Hold on a sec." She grabs her cell and executes a quick search. "Here you are. A guy in Iowa set the world record for hiccups, from nineteen twenty-two to nineteen ninety. Sixty-eight years. You've got a long way to go."

"Sixty-eight years?" Castle yelps. Horrifying as the information is, it hasn't scared the hiccups out of him. "He must have died from them, then."

"Nope," she says with a smile, as she puts the phone down. "He lived another year, hiccup-free."

"Not a comforting factoid." He jumps, and winces. "How old was this guy, anyway?"

"I'll check." Beckett does another search. "Hmm. Wow. That's something."

" 'Hmm, wow, that's something'? Doesn't sound good."

"He was ninety-seven when he died, Castle. Turns out he got the hiccups after a bad fall when he was in his twenties. He ruptured a tiny blood vessel which led to his brain's inability to suppress hiccups."

"Maybe I should get an PET scan, see if I ruptured a blood vessel." He gingerly pats the top of his head, and hiccups again.

Beckett walks round the counter, kisses him on the cheek and grabs his chin so that he is forced to look into her eyes. "Castle. I do not think that you need to see a doctor. Besides, I haven't told you the 'wow' part. The guy had eight children. Sex with hiccups? Think about it. Has to be pretty great."

"I'd never expect a silver lining like that from you, Beckett. That's usually my job."

She gives him another kiss. "I'm stepping up at the moment, what with you being hiccup-impaired."

"Even with that great sexual insight of yours—and by the way, I'm happy to test your theory right now—I am going mad with this."

She lowers her lashes and tosses back her hair. "Then follow me to the laboratory and we'll run a few experiments."

"Oooh, I always love experiments," he says, backing her out of the kitchen. "Does this laboratory of yours happen to have a bed?"

"Of course. It's a full-service, fully-equipped lab."

Some time later, flat on his back on the seriously rumpled sheets, he hiccups loudly. "Damn."

She pokes him teasingly in the ribs. "That was amazing. Still sorry you've got hiccups?"

"Might be worth it to have them for a while," he says, laughing and rolling onto his side. "I think I know now why the guy had eight kids."

"Still, maybe we should look for some of the more credible cures," Beckett suggests. "I have to get up anyway, so I'll see what I can find online." She swings her legs to the side of the bed and looks over her shoulder at him. "You stay here, lover boy, count your diaphragmatic spasms."

Fifteen minutes later she reappears, carrying a tray with an odd assortment of things from the kitchen: a jar of peanut butter and another of honey, a tin of cocoa powder, bottles of vinegar and Tabasco, a saucer of dill seeds, a glass of water, and a bunch of spoons.

Castle is sitting up against the headboard and looks suspiciously at the tray that Beckett has set down next to him. "What is all this stuff? It's a repulsive combination. The only thing missing is eye of newt."

"You're not supposed to take them all together. You drink or swallow or slowly chew any one of these things by itself and it should knock those little suckers right out of you. Now, which one do you want to try?"

Her question is met with a mixture of derision and disgust. "You're kidding. Why would I drink hot sauce if I could have cocoa?"

"It's not exactly hot chocolate, Castle. You don't get to drink it; you have to chew a spoonful of cocoa powder, which is not nearly as appealing or as easy as it sounds."

"I thought," hiccup, "that you were supposed to be helping me."

"I am. How about the peanut butter? You just have to chew a big spoonful. According to the article I read, doing that will interrupt your 'swallowing and breathing patterns'." She scoops some out and and waves it front of him. "C'mon, open wide."

 _"_ _You should try that, Dad. Peanut butter is my favorite."_

He does as directed, opens wide, chews, scrapes bits of goo off his palate with his tongue, and finally licks his lips. Hiccup. "Mrrph. Didn't work." Neither do the dill seeds. The honey is a waste of time. "I'll try one more, but that's it. Pass me the vinegar, please. I'm going for broke here." He takes an enormous swig, holds it in his mouth, rolls it around, grimacing the entire time. Finally, he swallows it and shudders. And then he waits. And waits. And waits. After five minutes without hiccupping he says, "Ahhhhhhh, I think that did it!"

"Told ya, Castle," Beckett says, putting everything back on the tray. "I'm glad you're still alive."

 _"_ _Me, too. I was really worried about Dad."_

"Close call though."

She clutches her heart. "You're right, Castle. Three hours? An incredibly close call. I'm so relieved that I could snatch you from the jaws of death."

"Mock me if you will, Beckett. Wait until it happens to you."

"It did have that one spectacular side effect, though, didn't it?"

"It did. Hell of a way to start a day." He reaches out to tickle her foot. "And now, regrettably, we both have to get dressed and get out of here if we're going to be at the Ryans' brunch on time."

That evening they're both on the sofa, about to watch a Truffaut movie. Beckett is trying to get into a comfortable position. "Are you sorry that you missed the hiccup record by sixty-seven years, three hundred sixty-four days and twenty-one hours, Castle?"

"Much as I'd like to be in the Guinness World Records for something, no. Okay, movie's starting."

"Thanks for agreeing not to watch the dubbed version. It's so much better hearing the French."

"You're welcome. Plus I really hate the lip synch being off."

 _"_ _This is another one of those where I won't know what's going on? Okay, I'm going to sleep."_

About halfway through the movie Beckett says, "This was a really appropriate choice, _Four Hundred Blows_. The baby is kicking like you wouldn't believe. Feels like four hundred blows already."

Castle turns to her and smiles. "Soccer time, huh?"

"No," she says, resting her hand near the bottom of her stomach. "It's weird. It's so rhythmic, like marching or something. It's driving me a little nuts, actually."

 _"_ _I'm not kicking you, Mom. I promise."_

"Actually, it's not kicking."

 _"_ _I told you so."_

"Lemme feel," Castle says, putting his hand next to hers. "Wow, I see what you mean. It's a really regular beat."

A few minutes later, Beckett rubs her belly again. "Maybe we should be watching _Peter Pan_. I feel like the crocodile that swallowed the clock. Tick, tock."

 _"_ _I'm going nuts, too, Mom. I'm jumping around in here and can't help it. Oops, there I go again."_

Beckett sits bolt upright. "Oh, my God. I just realized what it is. The baby has hiccups."

 _"_ _I have hiccups? I must have caught them from Dad. Quick, drink whatever worked on him to make them stop."_

It's Castle's turn to sit bolt upright. "Really? Hiccups!" He fist pumps gleefully. "Yes!"

"Definitely your kid, Castle," she says, putting her head on his shoulder. "At least I know they can't last more than another month."

 _"_ _Are you kidding? A MONTH? Let me out of here."_

 **A/N** Many thanks to reviewer wendykw for mentioning fetal hiccups!


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Oh, Castle, you're going to love this," Beckett says as walks into the kitchen with just the hint of a waddle. "I'm a shapeshifter."

"I already do love it," he says from the stool where he's sitting, "because you virtually never make a reference to _The Lord of the Rings_ , probably just to irritate me."

"Well, then I'm going to be a bubbleburster in addition to a shapeshifter," she says, plucking the bagel from his hand, taking a large bite and then returning it. "Tolkien did not invent shapeshifters. They've been part of mythology forever." She takes a seat next to Castle and casually removes a piece of bacon from his plate. It's gone in two bites. "Aren't you going to ask me about my newly acquired shapeshifterness?"

"I am, particularly since you look exactly the same as you did when you went to sleep last night."

"Not true." A second piece of bacon makes its way from his plate to her mouth. "I am a very different shape. I can no longer see my navel."

Castle gives her a long, steady look. "I've known you for years, and not once have I taken you for a navel-gazer. Please, do go on. Why can't you see your navel?"

"It disappeared." Along with the last piece of Castle's bacon.

"Really? Disappeared? So you have no navel at all? I thought the only people who had no belly buttons were Adam and Eve."

"It didn't vanish, Castle, like the lost city of Atlantis. But yesterday I could see it and today I can't—because the baby dropped! So my navel is now on the lower curve of my belly, rather than the top. It's amazing. I had no idea that when the baby dropped it would make me a totally different shape."

 _"_ _I don't know why you sound so happy about it, Mom. I'm upside down in here now. It feels weird."_

Castle watches as she appropriates the second half of his bagel and begins to chew it. "Beckett?"

She swallows. "Yes?"

"My bagel?"

"What?"

He points to the last incriminating morsel. "My bagel."

"Oh, sorry." She grimaces slightly. "Were you eating it?"

 _"_ _I'm glad you took it Mom, it's good. I like that cream cheese stuff."_

He raises both eyebrows. "Are you hungry, by any chance?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah, starving." She's running her mind over breakfast possibilities when she suddenly says, "Oh! I know!"

"Know what you want?"

"No, I know why I'm so hungry. I remember reading that one thing that happens when the baby drops is that you can eat more, feel like you have more room. Oh, and another thing." She pushes off the stool and starts walking away.

"Beckett? Where are you going?"

"The bathroom. That's the other thing. Once the baby drops you have to pee. Constantly."

 _"_ _We're going back for breakfast though, right, Mom? Don't forget."_

"I'll make us something," Castle says to her rapidly retreating back.

 _"_ _Thanks, Dad. I bet it'll be something great. Hurry up, before we get back and Mom asks for a smoothie."_

Beckett hasn't even reached the living room before Castle opens a cabinet, takes out the waffle iron and plugs it in. By the time she returns, the batter is ready and he's waiting for the iron to heat up.

"Ooh, waffles! Thank you. Haven't had those in a while."

 _"_ _You're not kidding. And I'm a kid, get it? I haven't told a joke in a while, either, Mom. Maybe I needed waffles. Dad says that you are his muse. I think waffles are mine."_

"Need to get a good breakfast in you today, Beckett. Last day in the precinct before your maternity leave kicks in."

 _"_ _What's that? Aren't I the one who kicks?"_

"Gonna be a boring day. Nothing but paper work." She spears a chunk of waffle and chews it blissfully. "God, I hate desk duty. Feels like I've been doing it forever."

Castle runs a piece of waffle through the lake of syrup on his plate. "Not forever. Besides, you'll be back out there before you know it, bringing down scum in vermin-infested dark alleys."

 _"_ _That sounds awful. Do I have to go?"_

"Yeah, well, I hope my skills haven't gotten rusty."

"Oh, please," he says, with a first-rate impression of the Beckett Eye Roll. "Time to go."

Just as she had predicted, it had been a day of unrelieved paperwork. The only thing that made it bearable was the parade of cops who stopped by her desk all day to wish her well. She hadn't wanted Castle to be there today; she was working hard not to show her emotions. When he texted her to say that he was downstairs, ready to go to dinner, she got up, said goodnight to her friends, and walked to the elevator, idly wondering who was going to win the baby pool, and how much money was in it.

He had chosen a new, well-reviewed restaurant just a few blocks away. The heat had abated, and it was pleasant enough that the restaurant had opened two pairs of French doors that gave onto the quiet side street.

"Look at that woman," Beckett says, waving her salad fork in the direction of one of the tables by the doors. "Is she crazy? She has her shoulder bag draped over the back of her chair. She's asking for someone to steal it. I'm going to go say something to her."

"Wait, Beckett, I'll do it."

She's already on her feet. "Nope. I've got it." She's about ten feet away when she sees a figure dart into the doorway and yank the woman's purse from the back of the chair. "Hey!" He's on the run and so is she.

The little bastard is good, she'll give him that, as she tears down the sidewalk, glad that she's wearing flats. But not good enough. She knows every potential escape route in the neighborhood and she also knows exactly where he's headed. If she turns left here, and then makes two quick rights, she should be able to nail him.

Bingo. "Drop the bag!" He's about to barrel into her, but she puts one arm out to steady herself against the wall in the areaway, and brings her foot up sharply, right into the crotch of his vintage 501s. He goes down in a screaming heap, and she hears hurried footsteps behind her.

"Beckett!" It's Castle, gasping and clutching his chest. "What the hell are you doing?"

She lets go of the wall and plants one foot hard on the arm of the moaning perp. "Well, since I'm now on leave from the NYPD, I'm making a citizen's arrest. Call 911, please. And hurry up, I have to pee."

 _"_ _And we didn't get to finish dinner."_

 **A/N** Thank you for all the RF &Fs. They make me feel like it's the Fourth of July, even when it isn't. Although, today it is.


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"Do you think it's safe for us to go?" Beckett is looking anxious around the edges as she opens the passenger door, slides into the car and buckles her seat belt.

 _"_ _Ouch, Mom. That's too tight! You always drive, so you're not used to being on this side."_

"Says the woman who four days ago, alone and gunless, charged down the street, into an alley and kicked a thief in the balls."

"And safely caught him," she says, loosening her seat belt a little. "That was different than this, Castle."

"How could what we're doing right now be riskier than that?"

"The little twerp was unarmed—and before you say anything, yes, I could tell because he had on skin-tight clothes with no room for a weapon of any kind—he's at least four inches shorter than I am and in crappy shape. Besides which, I'm trained. And I was acting on instinct."

"Pff! Instinct!"

"Are you condemning instinct?"

"Yes."

She turns her head sharply and looks hard at him. "Says the man who, after our first night together, made me hide in the closet when he heard his mother's voice, and claimed he was acting on instinct."

Castle clears his throat and makes the judicious decision not to pursue this line of reasoning, especially when it's at five-thirty in the morning and he's driving. He makes sure that his voice is reassuring. "I think that it's very safe for us to go out to the Hamptons, Beckett, even though your due date is close. The doctor assured us that it was fine. We're a two-hour drive away. If there were an emergency and you suddenly went into labor, Chief Brady, who owes us way, way beyond big time, would personally put us in a helicopter that would take us to the hospital." He caresses her thigh, then squeezes it gently. "And it will do us good to get out of the city for a little bit. Fresh air. Sunshine. Quiet. Naked sunbathing."

Good, that makes her laugh. "Naked sunbathing?"

"Yes, I have it all planned. It was supposed to be a surprise, but do you want to hear about it now?"

"Of course I want to hear about it. I'm guessing that it's something more something elaborate than me lying unclothed on a chaise by the pool at our house? Did you find a nude beach for pregnant women?"

"No, but that's a fantastic idea." He's almost jumping out of his seat at the suggestion. "Do you think there is one?"

"Absolutely not."

"Oh." He's disappointed, but only for a moment. "No matter." He's already cheered up. "It will be a one-pregnant-woman-and-her-husband nude beach."

 _"_ _And me."_

"And just where is this beach at which you expect me to be a gravid ecdysiast?"

 _"_ _What's that mean?"_

"Ooo, Beckett, I love it when you talk dirty, only classy."

 _"_ _Lalalalalalalalala."_

"I'm trying to be dignified, Castle. So where is this beach?"

"It's our beach, in front of our house, but I'm adapting it specifically for you. I know how much you've hated not being able to lie face down lately, so I am going to dig a hole in the sand and line it with towels. Presto! You just pop your stomach right in there! And I'll set up the beach umbrella so that you'll be in the shade, and your back, not to mention your perfect derrière, won't get burned. How's that?"

 _"_ _Am I going to like this?"_

She reaches out for his hand and kisses his palm. "You are an incredibly thoughtful and resourceful man. I love you."

"I love you, too. And how about this? We're going to hit the Sunrise Highway right at sunrise. That's a first. And we'll be first in line at the farm stand, where the dew will still be glistening on the corn."

Beckett laughs again. "Corn is the direction where this conversation is headed."

"Only because I'm happy."

"Me, too."

Two hours later—Castle still crowing about having been the first customer at the farm stand, as if it were some kind of Olympic event—they're standing at the kitchen island, eating just-picked raspberries. "I'm going to go out now and move the earth for you," he says, licking berry juice from his chin.

She pinches his bicep. "You frequently make the earth move for me, Castle,"

"Ah, so we're moving from corn to cheese?"

"Yes, and I know a set-up line when I hear it. Although technically you're moving sand, not earth."

"True. In any event, I gotta get going."

By the time she has put away the farm-stand produce and changed from her clothes into a robe, he has finished digging. When he comes into the bedroom, she starts to hum, play air guitar, and dance.

" 'Enter Sandman'?" he says, pulling off his pants and grabbing his bathing suit. "Good one, Beckett. Oh, and that reminds me." He picks up the pants that he has just removed and takes an iPod out of a pocket. "Got a special playlist for you."

"Gimme," she says, extending her hand.

"Nope, you'll have to wait 'til we get outside. You ready?"

"Yup."

True to his word, Castle has prepared a perfect hole in the sand, lined it with soft towels and put an enormous umbrella next to it. She takes off her robe and he rubs suntan lotion on her from nape to feet. She's moaning before she even hits the sand, and wiggles until she finds the right position. "Wow. This is incredible. I haven't been this comfortable in ages. It's my Beach Belly Bowl."

 _"_ _Mom! Mom! What's going on? I feel like I'm hanging from the ceiling. That's what bats do, right? Am I going a little batty? Ha! Good one."_

"Would you like your music now?"

"Yes, please."

He passes the iPod to her and she slips in the earbuds. He watches her for some time, trying to decide which song she's listening to by the way she moves. Or smiles. Sometimes it's obvious, because she starts to sing. Eventually he pats her on the bottom; she lifts her head and removes her ear buds.

"What, Castle?"

"Are you listening to 'Bust It Baby'?"

"Yes. I can't believe you did this. Are they all Baby songs?"

"Of course. What's your favorite so far?"

" 'Be My Baby.' "

 _"_ _Mine, too, Mom. And I am. Your baby."_

"I could tell right away when you got to 'Baby Love,' you know how?"

"Should I be afraid to ask?"

"You were twitching your cheeks to it. And I don't mean the cheeks on your face. I made a video."

 _"_ _Mom has other cheeks? Where are they? Do I have some?"_

"Castle!"

"Kidding, I'm kidding."

"This is actually really relaxing. Okay," she pops her ear buds in again, "time for more."

His reading is interrupted by a shriek, and he feels the slap of a hand on his ankle.

"Castle!"

Hmm, she must have found one of the ringers. "Yes?"

"I cannot believe you put 'She's Having My Baby' on here. Ugh."

"Just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Or if your taste had changed."

"Yeah, well the answer to the first is yes and to the second, no. In big, fat letters." She puts her head back on her arms and relaxes. For about five minutes. "CASTLE!"

Yup, she hit the other one. "I guess you found it."

"Seriously? 'Baby Likes to Bang'?"

"Just testing. I promise you'll love all the other ones."

She does. And she even naps. Later they take a swim and make lunch from the farm-stand bounty. The rest of the day is equally idyllic; they walk into town for an early dinner and get ice cream cones to eat on the way home. They're almost at the front door when Beckett stops.

"I want to go home."

"Home, home?"

"Yes."

She's seems calm, but he's immediately on edge. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine. You don't mind, do you? This has been a fantastic day, you were right about how good it would be. But I just feel like I have to go back to the city. I feel like I'm getting close."

"We'll drive back right now. You sure you're all right, though? Did you have a contraction?"

"No," she smiles. "Just a feeling."

 _"_ _I got a feeling, too."_

 **A/N** With the previous chapter, this story collected its 1,000th review. I'm stunned: it's an enormous milestone for the story and for me. Thank you! There are two chapters to go: the next will cover the birth, and the baby will come home in the last. A number of people have asked me about a pool. So: PM me if you want to leave a guess on gender, weight, height, date and time, all of which I've already chosen. Keep in mind the baby's due date is Aug. 31, not our actual date. I'll reveal the winner in the last chapter. The prize: bragging rights.


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

Beckett gets up so often in the night now that his brain barely registers the slight shift in the mattress when she leaves, or the one when she returns from the bathroom. Maybe it was a break in the pattern that made Castle come fully awake, his body sensing that some time has gone by and she still hasn't come back to bed. She's not in the bathroom; he can see that the door is open and that there's no light on. She might have gone upstairs to the nursery, which she has been checking with borderline obsessiveness since the guys from the furniture store set up everything there a few days ago. He's uneasy enough that he thinks that he should check.

He doesn't have to go that far. She's in an armchair in the living room, with a reading light on, and surrounded by books. She has those cute little frowny marks that pop up between her eyebrows when she's really concentrating, and she's so engrossed in the volume that she has in her hand that she doesn't hear him come in. He tilts his head to get a better view of the cover. _Идио́т_. Huh.

"Beckett?" No response. He tries again, a little louder. "Beckett?"

She looks up. "Oh, hi, Castle. What are you doing out of bed?"

"Well, I couldn't sleep without you and you-know-who next to me."

 _"_ _You Know Who? Is that my name now? Good grief."_

"Sorry we woke you."

"Whatcha reading? Looks like it's something Russian."

"Oh." She puts a finger in the book to mark her place, and holds it up to him. " _The Idiot_. Dostoyevsky. I suddenly realized that I'd never read it. I mean, it's a masterpiece and I've never even looked at it. I feel like an illiterate and I'm about to be a parent. Seriously, I have so much reading to catch up on. I wasted all that time, what was I thinking?"

He grabs a cushion and sits down on the floor next to her chair. "If it's any comfort, that makes me an illiterate, too. I've never read _The Idiot_ , even in English, and you're doing it in Russian?"

"Of course," she says, with a shrug.

Duh, he thinks, naturally she's reading it in Russian. "Um. These other books?" He starts picking them up: _The Stranger_ , by Albert Camus, Mann's _The Magic Mountain_ , Toni Morrison's _Beloved_. "Oh, here's one that definitely gets my vote," he says, laughing as he waves Kafka's _The Castle_ over his head. He's sifting through some more— _History_ , by Elsa Morante, Chinua _Achebe's Things Fall Apart_ —when something catches his eye. He pounces on it. "Aha! You can't tell me that you've never read this, though I'm flattered that you consider it a masterwork, worthy of sharing floor space with these others. _Storm Fall_ , the last in my acclaimed Derrick Storm series. You're going have to explain this one, Beckett."

"Want to come sit in this chair, and I can sit in your lap?" The frown lines are gone, and she's smiling widely. "I'll tell you all about it."

"You bet," he says, getting to his feet. He makes a quarter turn, sits down in the space she has vacated, and draws her onto his lap. "Are you comfy?"

"Very. You're sure we're not too heavy?"

 _"_ _Hey, Mom! Are you calling me heavy? Do you think I'm fat? Because, you know, it's really cramped in here now and I can't get much exercise. I'm getting out soon, right? You promised."_

"I'm sure. So, feed my ego some more, please, and tell me why _Storm Fall_ is on your personal banishing-illiteracy list."

She nuzzles his neck. "Because it reminds me of when and how we met. And it makes we think, wow, if I'd only known."

"Me, too. But surely have it committed to memory by now."

"Don't push it, buster." she says, swatting him on the chest. "Just be glad that you're even in the same bookcase with the TMs."

"Transcendental meditationists?"

"I don't think meditationist is a word. I was referring to Toni Morrison and Thomas Mann."

"I am glad. And honored to be in their company. But seriously, you think you have to read all these before the baby is born? You think I'm reasonably literate, don't you? And a good parent?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I haven't read most of these, and I could probably haul out a list of the World's Great Books and check off half the entries as ones I've never even opened." He turns her face up to his and kisses her.

"Thanks for the reassurance, Castle, but you understand what I'm saying, don't you?"

"I do. Everything's going to be fine. Wait here a minute. I have a book we really should read together." She gets up from his lap and does a few stretches while he's off getting whatever it is he's getting.

He's back in a moment, hiding the book behind him as he makes his way to the armchair. "Close your eyes, Beckett, and get in my lap again."

"Okay." She's back, and she feels his arm move in front of her. "Now what?"

"Now open your eyes."

She does, and her head jerks back when she sees what he's holding. " _Peter Rabbit_?"

"Unquestionably one of the world's best books, and I'm sure that you've read it." He looks a question at her and she nods. "So have I. You know, Beatrix Potter was one of the writers who wanted her books to be small like this, about four by six inches, so that little kids could hold them easily. I think we should read it aloud right now, even though the baby can't see the pictures. What do you say? You want to start?"

She can feel him settling in, as if a child were on his knees, ready for a story. "No, you go first," she says shyly.

"Okay." He turns to the beginning. " 'Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were—'," he gives her a little nudge.

She picks up the thread. " 'Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter'."

They take turns for the next few minutes until, together, they say, "The End."

 _"_ _Thanks, Mom and Dad. I loved that book, but I want to see the pictures. Are you going to save it for me?"_

"How about we go back to bed, Beckett? You're looking sleepy. Must be that perfect bedtime story we read."

She gets up and holds out her hand to help him from the chair. A few minutes later, when they're under the covers, she murmurs, "Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"You know what?"

"What?"

"That was better than Dostoyevsky. Night."

"Night." He falls asleep a happy man.

Two days later, he's not such a happy man. The weather is blistering hot with energy-leaching humidity. It feels as if they're living in a terrarium, and Beckett is bristly. Not that he blames her. She's uncomfortable, she's had a few Braxton-Hicks contractions, and worse, he had made the mistake of saying jokingly over lunch, "Maybe I'll call the next book _Prickly Heat_." He had apologized, narrowly escaped the death glare, made her some lemonade, and retreated to his office to write. Anything but _Prickly Heat_. In late afternoon, when he thought that she was napping, he heard the sound of something falling hard on the kitchen floor.

"Fuck!"

He should probably go in there.

Another crash, followed by an even louder, "Fuck!"

He's going in there. Beckett is standing, radiating rage, as she looks at the floor.

"Are you okay? I thought I heard something break."

"No, I am not fucking okay," she says. "I am so unbelievably clumsy lately and it's making me crazy. I dropped the bowl and it cracked and then when I tried to pick it up, which I couldn't because my stomach is in the way, I dropped it again."

He puts his arm around her shoulder, as gently as possible. "Here, let me help you. I'll get it." He picks up the bowl, which is indeed cracked. "No harm done. That's easily replaced."

She's still glowering. "I could drop ever goddamn piece of china we own before the baby gets here."

 _"Is this my fault? I didn't do anything."_

Castle gives her a squeeze and laughs. "Every goddamn piece? Not a chance. Speaking of which, we should both try to stop swearing before the baby arrives. Metaphorically wash our mouths out with soap."

 _"_ _Mom? Dad? I guess you don't know that I can hear you?"_

Oh, no. Wrong choice, he realizes too late. Wrong, wrong, wrong thing to say. Her eyes are burning into him. He's going to have a hole bigger than an exit wound from a cannonball.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Castle?" She slaps her hand on the countertop. "I will swear as fucking often as I want until then, especially as fucking itself is a little tricky for me at the moment, and not entirely the way I'd like it, need I remind you."

She's breathing a little heavily as he puts his hands up in surrender. "You're right. You're absolutely right. Let's have some fun with this, get it all out of our systems. Lay it on me, Beckett. You swear better than anyone I've ever met, which is saying a lot." He grins at her. "C'mon. Leggo."

Her glare is fading; the corner of her mouth begins to twitch. "Okay, you son of a bitch." She starts to laugh, and he follows.

"Son of a bitch? That the best you've got, Beckett?"

"Nah, just a warm-up pitch. Hang on." She unleashes curses worthy of the toughest, most salt-encrusted sailor, and looks happier with each successive one. When she finishes she's beaming, and thrusts her arms in the air. "Ta da!"

Castle is stamping and clapping. "I bow to you," he says, bending at the waist. "I salute you, I hail you, Katherine, Empress of the Blue Streak."

"Thank you," she says. "Do I get a crown?"

"First thing in the morning."

"All that swearing gave me a little appetite, I must say. Is it dinner time?"

He checks the clock. "Six, want me to make something?"

"It's hot, do you have stuff for chicken salad?"

"I do, and I can have it ready in ten minutes. You can supervise or just keep me company."

"My supervisory role consists of me asking you to include raisins and almonds and grapes and a little curry, please. That's all. And I'll set the table."

They enjoy dinner, but the weather has taken it out of both of them, and they go to bed at an almost unheard of ten-thirty. Beckett, in fact, is there even earlier, watching the Yankees-Indians game on DVR because she'd been snoozing when it was on live earlier in the day. A few minutes after he has turned out the light and is already half asleep, she gets up to go to the bathroom.

"CASTLE!"

The sound would have raised the dead; it certainly raised him. He throws off the sheet and runs to Beckett, who is standing at the sink but pointing at the floor. "My water just broke."

 _"_ _Whoa! What was that? I don't know about Mom, but my water just went whoosh."_

He puts his hand over hers. "I'm calling the doctor right now."

"Okay. Good. No. Wait."

"Wait? We can't wait, Beckett, your water broke."

"No, I mean okay, call, but I have to shave my legs."

"What!"

"Castle. I am not going into the delivery room with all those people two inches away from my hoo-ha without having perfectly shaved legs."

"Fine. I'll go call."

When he gets back to the bathroom, he's holding his cell out to her. "It's Doctor Fisher. Lotte. She has to ask you a couple of questions. Im going to get dressed and get your bag in case we have to go to the hospital, okay?"

"Fine. And I'm almost done with my legs."

Castle dresses as quickly and calmly—not very—as he can. He has just put on his shoes when Beckett calls him and he lopes back to the bathroom.

"Lotte says we should go to the hospital," she says, passing the phone back to him. "She'll meet us there. I'm just going to get dressed."

Perched on the edge of the bed while his wife changes, Castle shakes his head. "You're so calm. I can't believe it."

"Cop, Castle, cop. I'm a cop. Trained to be calm. You got my bag?"

He hoists it in his hand. "Yup."

"Then let's roll."

They walk to the door, hand in hand. "Next time we come in here, there will be three of us," Castle says in wonderment, as if he hadn't had nine months to get used to the idea.

 _"That's me, right, Dad? I'm finally going to see you and Mom and everyone and where we live? Yippee!"_

They take the elevator to the garage. Castle puts the bag on the back seat, and waits for Beckett to buckle up before he starts the engine. Except it doesn't start. And it doesn't start. And it doesn't start again.

He feels the grip of a bodybuilder around his forearm. "Castle." Her voice has a small quaver. "I'm not so calm right now."

"Don't worry. I've had the car service on standby twenty-four seven since we got home from the Hamptons. I'm calling them right now."

Four minutes later, the car is there and they're on their way. Because it's a late-summer Sunday night, traffic is light and the trip is quick. While they're en route, Castle calls Alexis and his mother and Beckett, her father.

"I told Dad not to come right away, but he insisted."

"Same with Mother. Alexis didn't pick up but I left her a voicemail. And a text."

The car drops them at the hospital, and both of them thank the driver. "I've been paying for this for ten days," Castle says. "Worth every penny."

Because they registered in advance, there's no paperwork, and after a physical exam Beckett is admitted. Shortly after, her contractions have begun. She's walking as much as she can, or standing and hanging on to the bed rail. Castle ducks out to see the soon-to-be grandparents, and give them a status report. When he's back, he takes his seat again next to her bed. "I called Lanie and the boys, just to let them know we're here and I told them I wouldn't call back until the baby is here. Lanie made a few threats, but I held her off."

"Just as well, Castle. I might be threatening you in a while, so it's good you got your practice in." She winces. "Holy mother of God!"

"I think you may be working up to that threat, Beckett. I can take it. Here, take my hand. Break it if you need to."

Beckett doesn't break it, but she squeezes the hell out of it. She's sucking on ice chips now while Caskett keeps one eye on the monitor.

"Everything's going really well, Kate," one of numerous nurses advises.

"Easy for you to say. Shit." A contraction takes over her entire body, and when it subsides she turns her head to get a good look at her husband.

"You hanging in there, Castle? You look a little pale to me."

"I'm fine, Beckett."

"You're a liar. And where the hell is Alexis? If you keel over in here I want her to back me up."

"She's on her way." This is more equivocation than a lie, it's just that she's on her way from the Hamptons, where she had been at a party though fortunately not drinking. But since the baby is arriving both earlier and more quickly than expected, she might not get to the hospital in time for the delivery. "I'm not missing this, I promise you."

"You're not going to swoon at the blood?"

"No. I've been looking at that birthing video to inure myself. Besides, that's not the hard part. The hard part is seeing you in pain."

Beckett smiles damply. "That's very sweet Castle. More ice, please."

Five minutes later, she's not finding him sweet at all. "I swear to God I'm going to kill you. If I could get up from here I would."

"I know. I would give you the gun and everything. You're working so hard, you're doing a fantastic job."

 _"Why does everyone keep saying Mom is working so hard? This is no picnic for me, you know. And all this yelling! Mom! You're hurting my ears."_

A full-bore contraction makes Beckett double up. "Castle!"

"Not much longer. Can I get you something?"

"Yeah. You got me into this, you can damn well get me out."

 _"I don't get it. I thought I was the one who had to get out."_

Doctor Fisher and Castle are coaching her, and Castle keeps wiping her face with a cool cloth.

"Kate," the doctor says from between Beckett's legs. "You're almost there, crowning now. All you need are a few more big pushes."

 _"_ _Hey! I think there's a light at the end of this tunnel."_

Castle is excited, Beckett is panting, and a few mighty pushes later, they're parents.

 _"_ _Wow! I'm outta here! Hi, Mom, hi, Dad!"_


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer:** The only part of _Castle_ that I own is the TV on which I watch the show.

"It's a boy. You have a beautiful little boy," Doctor Fisher says, smiling as she places him on Beckett's chest.

He hasn't been cleaned off, he's covered in gunk, his eyes are scrunched up, and he looks as though he's about to scream. He's the most gorgeous creature Beckett has ever seen. "Hello," she says, holding him against her bare skin and running her fingertip softly across his cheek before she kisses it. "Hey."

 _"_ _Hello, Mom, you feel good. I'd open my eyes, but it's too bright in here. And noisy."_

"Hello, Eliot." She looks up at Castle, who is simultaneously gobsmacked, ecstatic and speechless. "Look, Castle. Look who we made. He's perfect, isn't he?"

 _"_ _I finally have a name? And I'm perfect? This is an amazing day already and I just got here."_

Castle leans over and kisses Beckett while he cradles the baby's head in his hand. "We have a son. Thank you. Thank you. I can't believe it. A baby boy." Somehow he has the presence of mind to retrieve the phone from his pocket and take a picture of his wife and their minute-old baby.

 _"_ _Hi, Dad. It's me, Eliot. Mom said. So you can call me Eliot now. I like that."_

Doctor Fisher walks to the head of the bed. "We can cut the cord while the baby's lying on you, Kate. We'll clamp it first and then, Rick? Would you like to cut the cord? "

 _"_ _Cut the cord? That sounds dangerous. I think she means the rope thing that's attached to me. Was that a secret? How come I didn't know that was going to happen? Is it gonna hurt?"_

"Yes, please, Lotte. I'm incredibly excited, but I have to say I'm a little bit scared of hurting him."

"No need to worry. There are no nerves in the cord, so the baby won't feel a thing. Just cut between the two clamps."

 _"_ _Boy oh boy, that's a relief. That's my first joke since I got born, because I'm a boy! Get it? I hope the doctor wasn't fibbing about this not hurting."_

Castle removes his hand from the baby's head and takes the scissors from Lotte. It occurs to him that he hasn't done anything with such care and trepidation since the first time he held Alexis. But this is something altogether different, and altogether new. This is the physical link between mother and child, this is what kept their boy growing for the last nine months. He snips through the cord, and when he's done he laughs. And then he cries. And then he feels Beckett wrap her fingers around his hand.

"It's okay," she whispers. "I'm teary, too."

"Don't let anyone know," he says, wiping his eyes and tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, Ryan would be fine, but not Esposito, or Perlmutter."

"Kate and Rick," the doctor says, "we're going to take the baby now, just over here, and we'll clean him up, check him out thoroughly and get all his measurements. I promise that we'll bring him right back to you."

"This is some night, isn't it Beckett?" Castle says. "Or is it morning? It must be morning. Oh, my God, I didn't notice what time it was when Eliot was born. I have to find out."

"The time's on the photo, Castle."

"Oh, yeah. I'm glad you're thinking for both of us."

"And it will be on the birth certificate."

"I don't want to wait for that. Everybody will want to know everything. I want to know everything."

They're interrupted by a yowl from the baby.

"Wow, listen to him, Castle! That's some set of lungs he has."

 _"_ _Hey, that's me! I'm making a racket, aren't I? That's what that nurse gets for pinching me. She said it was Apgar. I'm glad you didn't call me that. It's a really ugly name."_

Castle was stoical during the birth, but the thought of the blood that will accompany the delivery of the placenta makes him light-headed. Some tiny portion of some frontal lobe is telling him that he doesn't really need to be there for that, that Beckett wouldn't mind his absence. In fact, she'd probably be grateful for it, since the doctor would be examining her afterwards and she'd be getting cleaned up and certainly that was something she'd rather not have him have to watch. Also, he doesn't want one of Eliot's first memories to be of his father fainting at the sight of blood like some kind of wuss. Could be traumatic for the boy, force him into therapy down the line. Good. That's settled.

"Already the noisiest kid on the block. Listen, I'm just going to go out to the waiting room, tell our parents and Alexis everything, okay? Seems like a good moment."

"Go," she says, giving him a tiny push.

Castle walks out into the corridor, picking up speed until he explodes through the doors, and manages to corral Alexis, Martha and Jim in one enormous hug. "Boy!" he says. "We have a boy and everybody is fine. Totally fine. Completely. Beckett was incredible. Wait till you see her. And him. Well, you will see him. In about an hour you'll see him. Perfect. And a mop of brown hair. A ton of hair."

Martha squeals. Alexis squeals. Jim produces the silent equivalent of a squeal, an ear-to-ear grin.

"Richard?"

"Yes? Mother! Grams. You're a grandmother again."

"Yes, darling, I am, and Jim is a grandfather, and Alexis is a sister, and I think I can say that we're all over the moon about that. However, now we would all love to know the name of the newest member of the family."

"Oh! Right. Of course, sorry. Eliot. He's Eliot. Eliot Beckett-Castle. And we're all fine, very fine, are you all fine?"

"We're fine, Rick," Jim says, giving him a quick hug. "Eliot is a terrific name."

"Dad?"

"Yes, my dearest daughter."

She's shaking his arm. "Pictures? Didn't you take a picture?"

He looks so sunnily befuddled, more like an oversized kid than a newly-(re)minted father. He scrabbles around in his pocket for his phone and quickly finds the photo, then holds the cell at an angle so that all of them can see.

Jim squints at the screen. "It's hard to tell, but I think he looks like both of you. Those long legs are straight from Katie, though."

"I have to go back in now, back there," Castle says, waving his arm haphazardly behind him. "And then I'll be back out here later so I can tell you all the important things like how much he weighs. And things. How tall. Things." He disappears through the swinging doors, but turns around and comes through them again. "I have to see how they are. And then you can see them. You have to see them. Bye. Oh, wait, I just have to run down for flowers. Bye."

Alexis is laughing as Castle heads for the elevator. "Gram? Dad is hilarious. Was he like that when I was born?"

"No, when you were born he was sort of cheerily catatonic, if you can imagine such a thing. But he was young and your mother wouldn't let him anywhere near the delivery room, so it was a very different situation." Martha turns to her co-grandparent. "What about you, Jim? Were you with Johanna when Katherine was born?"

He laughs at the memory. "I was, but mostly I was trying to persuade her not to file suit against me for having gotten her pregnant. I told her I would countersue, but she was having none of it. And then Katie arrived, and the phantom lawsuits just vanished."

"I was all alone and scared to death but, you know, the show must go on, and it did. Alexis is much too wise to do it that way, aren't you, dear?"

"I know that's really not a question, Gram," Alexis says, "so I won't answer it. Since we can't see Kate and the baby for a bit, why don't we go out and get some coffee?"

The three of them are waiting for the elevator when the doors open and Castle emerges, carrying an enormous bouquet and a stuffed animal.

"Richard! Where did you get those gorgeous flowers at this time of day?"

"Oh, well, I had an order on standby and I sort of paid the florist to be available any time and then I texted her and so she met me in the lobby."

"Of course," Alexis says.

"And Peter Rabbit there?" Jim asks.

"Believe it or not, the hospital gift shop."

"We're going to get coffee, Richard. See you soon." Martha, watching her son advance to the hallway, is not altogether sure that he processed the information.

When Castle reenters the room, he finds mother and son all tidied up, and Eliot nursing. "Oh, my God, you are so beautiful," he says, giving both of them a kiss after dropping the flowers and the toy on the table.

"He found my breast in about one second, Castle. Three tries and he was sucking like mad."

"Yeah? Atta boy!" He wants to pump a fist in the air, but restrains himself.

"Like father, like son. And don't tell anyone I said that. I do have one tiny shred of modesty remaining." She looks to her right. "Those are the most spectacular flowers I've ever seen. Thank you. I won't ask about how you got them at this hour. Is that a stuffed animal?"

He picks it up and passes it to her. "Peter Rabbit, complete with his blue jacket. I found it in the hospital gift shop just now. And that's not all. I Googled to see who else was born on this day, August twentieth-fourth. Guess who? Tolstoy! I'm not kidding. So you might have to rethink your long-held belief in no coincidences and the nonexistence of kismet."

She tickles the baby's fist with the plush bunny. "Maybe for today, at least. Eliot's done for now, I think. Come up here with us and hold him."

An hour later, with Beckett and Son installed in a proper room, Castle goes to collect the family. "We're all ready, but I have to give you the vital statistics first. Seven pounds, nine ounces. Twenty-two and a half inches long. Eight fingers, two thumbs, ten toes. And he arrived at exactly six oh five this morning."

They move into the room, and everyone takes a turn holding the baby. "Jim's right," Martha says. "Katherine, these never-ending legs of Eliot's are yours. But the eyes? Exactly like Richard's. And you know, 'Monday's child is fair of face'? Couldn't be truer. He's gorgeous."

"How about that thick hair? He comes by that honestly," Jim says. "Both sides of the family."

"I'm glad he's not a redhead like Gram and me. Much easier when he's out in the sun. And that is beautiful hair."

 _"_ _I don't know why everyone is surprised. I've been telling Mom and Dad that I have hair for ages. And if I have great hair, why do I have to wear this dumb hat?"_

"Beckett? I just realized that I haven't called anyone at the precinct. Want me to do it so you can save your strength? Everyone is gonna be coming over here."

"Yes, please. Thanks. And tell them I can't wait to see them and show off the baby."

 _"Eliot."_

Castle steps out to the waiting room, and calls Lanie first and sends her a photo. He follows up with Ryan, who puts him on speaker so that Espo can hear him.

"Congratulations, man," Ryan says.

"And a boy? Way to go, Castle. Didn't know you had it in you."

"Thanks, guys. Listen, you have to tell me this now, when I'm nowhere near Beckett. I know there are pools, and I want to know who won. And if you hold out on me, I will find out, and I'll get Beckett on your asses. I want to know how much each one was, too. Gotta be a fortune. So, give me the details, right now. And after that, I'll text you all the stuff you need to know."

Ryan and Espo fill him in all three. "Okay, you can tell Beckett about two, but not about the water breaking, remember? Deal? Okay, here comes the info. Call me back ASAP."

He doesn't have to wait long. "You're not going to believe this, Castle," Ryan says. "The same person won the first two pools."

"Who?"

"Perlmutter!" they say as one.

"You're kidding. Both of them?" Castle is laughing so hard he gets a glare from a man in the waiting room. "So, he bet on me not puking or passing out in the delivery room? Nicer guy than I thought. How much money is he taking home in his latex-gloved fists?"

"Two thousand four hundred and seventy bucks," Ryan says. "I could have used that."

"Wow. And who's the lucky winner of the water-breaking one?"

Silence.

"Guys?"

Silence.

"Hello? I know you're there. I can hear Espo coughing."

"Right. Okay," Espo says. "It was you, bro. You won. Nine hundred twenty dollars. Like you need it."

"Music to my ears. You're coming over to see Beckett and the baby this afternoon, right? Bring me my money, please, in a plain, unmarked envelope. See you later."

By the end of the day, at least half the denizens of the Twelfth have cooed at Eliot and congratulated the parents. Ryan and Jenny stay a little longer, but when they leave, Castle runs after them.

"Wait, you two," he says as he catches up to them near the elevator. "I have something for you." He hands over a thick, white envelope.

Ryan's eyes are huge. "Castle, is this what I think it is?"

He nods and smiles. "Yeah, all nine hundred twenty dollars. It's for Sarah Grace, for her college fund. From Eliot." He puts his hand up. "And don't thank me. It's my son's doing. He made sure Beckett's water broke exactly where and when I'd hoped."

"You know," Jenny says. "I'd be appalled that you bet on something like that, but I'm sorry to say that I'm used to it by now."

"Please, please don't tell Beckett," Castle says. "I beg you. It's my life on the line here."

"Your secret's safe, Rick," Jenny assures him. "But only because Eliot was so generous. Tell him thanks for us when Kate's not in earshot."

"I will."

Twenty-four hours later, they're home in the loft, mother, father and baby together on the sofa.

"What do you think of our house, Eliot?" Castle says. "Did you like your room? You're going to sleep in your bassinet next to Mom and me for a while, but pretty soon you'll be in your own room with all those cool toys."

 _"_ _This place is great, Dad. And I like that I have clothes now."_

"What do you think he's going to be like, Castle? I can already tell he's sweet. Do you think he's going to be funny? Look at the way he's looking at us. There's so much we still don't know about babies' brains. Sometimes when I was pregnant I felt like he was talking to me, you know, and sometimes I wondered if he heard us. Do you think he did? Do you think he remembers?"

 _"_ _Mom? You have no idea."_

 **A/N** That does it! I reached the Ficathon goal of 50,000 words. I can't thank you enough for cheering me on with this story. I'm grateful for all of you, especially those who reviewed so faithfully. As for the pool? I'll have to figure out an overall winner, which will be difficult, but here are the individual winners: Date: CharacterDriven and Aidyl James, both right on the button with August 24th. Time: the closest was alighted2015, who guessed 7:05 a.m. Weight: a three-way tie by Caskett1960, Guest! and tasheikaconley, all of whom said 7 pounds, eight ounces, just one ounce off. Length: Moochiechat, who voted for 23 inches, just half an inch more than the actual figure.


	41. Chapter 41: Epilogue

So many readers asked me to continue this story, or to do a sequel. I'm not going to do that, but I have decided that we haven't seen—or, more to the point, heard—the last of Plus One, aka Eliot. I miss him! So: he will appear in the next chapter of my story "A Few Good Fonts," which I hope to post late today (July 9) or tomorrow. Each chapter in "A Few Good Fonts" is a stand alone, so you needn't have read the other chapters to understand this one, though of course I hope that you will read them all! Thank you again for your fantastic support for "Womb with a View."

And now, a round of applause for the winner of the baby pool: Moochiechat, who had the most number of points in a complicated system of scoring. Congratulations!


End file.
